


the sun sets better with you by my side.

by pastisregret



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU Yeah AUgust (Miraculous Ladybug), Airports, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Arranged Marriage, Bartenders, Blind Date, Boarding School, Body Swap, Business, Convention, Cruise Ship, Detectives, Dystopian, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Horror, Immortal, Imprinting, Podcast, Restaurants, Rivalry, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Social Media, Time Travel, bed sharing, gamer - Freeform, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-07-29 01:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 23,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20073868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastisregret/pseuds/pastisregret
Summary: au yeah august, or a month's work of prompts exploring potential playouts of a love story.





	1. bed-sharing

**Author's Note:**

> ahahHA we back again for au yeah august... funny enough last year i ended writing when i started school again,,,, hoping this year my brain cells can make it through the whole month

After the reveal, things had changed. It was different now, all too different and too weird. A shift in their dynamic, a hesitation during the first few fist bumps after. Eyes that would dart away in public, or feet that would brush each other under the table during lunch. Hands tapping out rhythms on rooftops, masks that couldn’t conceal emotion the same way it used to.

Suddenly, there was an open question in the air, one that couldn’t quite be answered.

_What now?_

What became of the _now_, where they both existed in a world where it was too complicated to sort their feelings out in the face of a villain that threatened their very existence every day? How could they sit down and speak their thoughts, expose their feelings into the open after so many years stuck in a constant loop of fight and run off? And once they did, what would come of it? Would they grow from it, like they always planned? Or would something come in their way, like a wicked man who hid behind akumas and plans they hadn’t yet uncovered?

No, it was better not to talk it all out. They didn’t need to bring their worries up. They shouldn’t have to, shouldn’t need to find answers they weren’t ready for. No, Marinette and Adrien could find comfort in other things, things that didn’t need words.

Like in bed.

Sharing the comforter, wrapped in blankets and each other. Fingers dancing in their hair, or tracing butterfly kisses down their arm. Hands touching skin and heads resting on each other, hearing the beat of their heart and feel the rise and fall with each breath. It became a reminder to each other. A reminder that they were human, that despite all brainwashing akumas and harsh battles and kwami transformations they belonged to something.

Something human, something that kept them grounded throughout it all. Something that kept them sane when the world threatened to rip them apart.

Each other.

One day, they’d be ready to talk. Talk it all out. Sort it all out. Sort out what lay behind every single touch, gaze, or brush of lips onto each other. Figure it out, find out where to go from there.

But for now, they had other things they could do. Like in bed.


	2. convention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 2: convention

“You know, the conventional way of doing things would have me setting this date up,” Adrien tells her, his hand tapping the tablecloth she had laid down. “I did, after all, ask you out.”

“You’d be right, but I’ve been planning this date out since I was _fourteen_,” Marinette says, grinning as she leaned over to put down some silverware beside each plate. “Let me live out one of my fantasies, please.”

“And what about all the dates I’ve planned out with Ladybug since _I_ was fourteen? Don’t those count too?”

“They do, but not tonight.” Smirking, she placed her last addition to the table, a few roses freshly clipped and placed into the nicest vase she could find.

“Fancy,” Adrien comments, a hand coming up to play with one of the petals. “Didn’t know you went all out, my lady.”

Marinette shrugs, smiling even as she tried to act nonchalant. “I try.” 

She’s hosting date night in her apartment, the small dining table she barely ate from decorated and done up. Having turned off her phone, shooed Alya and Nino away from the premises, and sent a whisper-prayer out to every divine being out there, Marinette finally felt like nothing would get in the way of tonight.

Tonight, by which, had been in the works for who knew how many years. An identity reveal, crushes on both end that were thought to be one-sided, and half a dozen awkward talks led to this moment. This moment, where Adrien finally got the courage to ask her out and Marinette hadn’t hesitated to say yes. This moment, where she had called her grandma for recipes and had to fight back interfering parents who wanted to bake up a dozen treats for them. This moment, where she was smoothing down her dress and he was looking at her with _those eyes_ and reaching an arm out to grab her, hold her close and-

“Adrien?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sitting on you.”

“Yeah, you do that quite often,” Adrien says, his arms wrapped around her waist to keep her there. He chuckles, listing off all the instances. “Remember all those times in the suit and we needed to keep track on an akuma? Or when there’s no seats anytime we head out with the gang? Or just last week, when you sat on me at the park because the bench was filled?”

“Yeah, and Alya wouldn’t stop making fun of us the rest of the night.” Marinette laughs, turning her face to look at him. They were just a few inches apart now, not that the distance meant anything. They had their fair share of moments like this, moments where they were so close it seemed crazy nothing had clicked before, that they hadn’t put the dots together and realized something was going on between them.

But now, it seemed a little different. Now, they were on a date, alone. Alone _together_.

“You look really pretty tonight,” Adrien says, voice soft.

“Thanks.” Marinette thinks she’s dreaming the way his cheeks have gone rosy.

“No compliment back?” he asks, fake pouting. “I’m hurt.”

“No, you look really good, Adrien. I guess I’m just a bit nervous,” Marinette says, cheeks going red. He always did know how to make her blush.

Adrien tilts his head, brings a hand up from her waist to pull a strand of hair away from her face. “Nervous of what?”

“I just don’t want anything going wrong.” She falls into his touch, resting her cheek in his hand. “I _have_ been dreaming this up since I was fourteen, you know.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. His hand on her cheek, Adrien connects the freckles on his face with his thumb, playing a game of connect the dots before they reach one at the corner of her lips. He lets it rest there, before finally finding home on her bottom lip, lipstick staining his finger.

“Yeah,” Marinette repeats, voice low. She feels herself leaning in, his hand moving from her face to the back of her neck. They’re close, way closer than they’ve ever been, and Marinette thinks she’s dreaming the way his lips feel on-

A scream from outside disrupts them. Heads turning to the sound, they heard the all too familiar blare of a car alarm going off, along with the crash of something following. Another second, and a villain monologue started up.

“Akuma,” Marinette mutters, moving off of Adrien. She walks over to the window, she flings it open. “This is just great.”

“Well, it’s a good thing two of Paris’ best are close to the scene.” Adrien gets up, sighing. “I guess work never ends, huh?”

“You could say that.”

Marinette watches Tikki and Plagg emerge from the kitchen, tiny flashes headed over to their respective holders. Looking at Adrien, she watches her partner transform, that bright green flash that never went old.

“Well?” he asks, Adrien gone and Chat Noir in his place. He motions to her outfit, then back at his suit. “Shouldn’t we get going, my lady?”

“You go ahead, chaton,” Marinette says, hand gesturing to the window. “I have to take something out of the oven or else we’ll come back to something that a Lucky Charm won’t fix.”

He’s absolutely wicked with the way he grins, going to the window and bracing himself for a jump. Eyes shining more, he winks at her.

“We’ll finish where we left off after this.”

Marinette waves her hand, sending him off. She can feel her lips buzzing from their almost kiss as she speaks. “See you in a few, minou.”


	3. cruise ship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 3: cruise ship

“It sure was nice that Chloé invited us to go onto her yacht,” Alya says, tying her hair up as she spoke. “Of course, it’s usually nice that she does anything kinda good.”

“Yacht? This is more like a cruise ship, I swear,” Marinette mutters, leaning on the railing and staring out at the water. “Who needs this big of a boat when they’re _literally_ an only child?”

“For moments when she wants to brag to the class how much money her parents have, of course,” Alya says, swinging an arm around her shoulders. She raises her free arm, throwing it out against the blue sky like she was charting a course (even while they were still docked). “Just imagine it. Chloé, Sabrina, and the top ten people in class they actually tolerate all here. Sounds just about the level of chaos we get on land.”

“If that’s the case, then why are we here? I thought she hated us.”

“Well, _I_ think she had a change in heart on how she views us. That, or someone convinced her it’d be nice to invite us.”

“The second one,” a voice behind them says. Turning, they catch Nino smiling at the two, the white cast of a sunscreen not made out for his skin tone painting his face. “It’s _definitely_ the second.” 

“And how do you know?” Alya asks. She smirks, parting from Marinette and making her way to Nino. He loops an arm around her waist, pulling her close to his side as he answers.

“Adrien told me. He said it wouldn’t be the same without you two onboard.”

“_Adrien_ asked _Chloé_ to invite _us_?” Marinette asks, each new word added to the question making it sound like something out of the Twilight Zone.

Nino nodded. “Yep, and she couldn’t turn down a request like that when Adrien hardly ever asks for anything, like, ever. She basically _had_ to listen.”

“God, I wish I was there in the room when it went down,” Alya says, knocking her head onto Nino’s shoulder. “I bet it _killed_ her to agree.”

“She hasn’t stopped complaining _all_ afternoon. And she probably won’t until Adrien finally shows up.”

“He’s not here yet?” Marinette asks.

“Nope. Gorilla was stuck in traffic, so we’re all sitting ducks until he can make it. Then we’ll finally head out and see how good this thing floats.”

Alya laughs, looking at Nino. “Don’t say it like that,” she tells him. A hand coming up, she pats his cheek, frowning. “You know, we need to get this sunscreen off you. It looked like someone was painting on you.”

“Do you have anything better?” he asks. “I’d rather be covered in streaky sunscreen than wind up sunburnt.”

Alya smiles, hand digging into her bag. Pulling out a bottle, she holds it out to him. “’Actually,” she starts, “I do.”

“You’re incredible,” Nino says.

“So are you.”

“Oh no, I think you’re more- “

“No, it’s obviously you.”

“No- “

“Yes- “

Marinette scrunches her nose, interrupting them before they continued. “Please, save all the romantic stuff for closed doors, before I become a whole new kind of seasick.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” Alya says. “You’re such a sucker for flirts.”

She blushes, biting her lip and turning her head back to the water. “Am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Am _not_.”

“You know,” Nino adds, “Adrien’s huge on that sort of thing too.”

“He is?” Marinette asks, a bit shocked.

“Yep. He’s like, obsessed with dumb flirts and puns. I can’t stand being around him when he starts thinking up new ones.”

“Is that so?” Adrien asks, slipping his hands around both Nino and Alya’s shoulders and pulling them close. Both jump, startled by his quiet entrance.

“Bro, you gotta let us know when you sneak up on us!” Nino exclaims, hand raised in a mid-punch. “I swear, you’re like a cat the way you creep up on us.”

“I think it’s fun,” Adrien says.

“Well,” Alya interjects, her own fist clenched shut, “I think it’s creepy. Right, Mari?”

Marinette doesn’t let out so much of a response as she does a squeak, her hands tightening on the railing.

“Right,” Alya says. Parting from Adrien’s arm, she grabs onto Nino, an opportunity popping up in her head.

“You know,” she starts, “Nino and I need to apply sunscreen.”

Adrien frowns, looking at the smudges on Nino’s face. “Doesn’t he already have some on?”

“Better sunscreen,” she clarifies, feet already moving away from him and holding out the bottle in her hand as proof. “Special sunscreen. Downstairs. Together. Would you mind staying with Marinette up here while we’re gone? She can get a little dizzy from the rocking of the boat.”

Alya doesn’t wait for a proper answer, taking Adrien’s half-nod as a yes and bolting for the downstairs entrance, Nino holding her hand and flashing a thumbs-up at Adrien.

Marinette swears she’s gone ice solid with the way she doesn’t move, her mind going haywire as she feels him step closer to her, arms leaning onto the railing and only a few inches between their bodies.

It’s silent, they realize after a moment. Too silent. Silent enough that Marinette racks her brain around for anything to say, eyes staring out into blue with nothing coming. And then, as if by some stroke of luck, Marinette remembers something Nino mentioned.

_Adrien likes jokes._

“So,” Marinette starts, working with the first pun she could think of, “it’s a good day to seas the day, right?”

He blinks, looking at her and turning his body from the water. “Huh?”

“Seas the day. You know, like “seize the day.” Seas instead of seize, like a play on words. Like, you’re- “

Marinette stops herself, grimacing at her pretty bad explanation. She gives an apologetic smile and starts in with the apology instead, hoping she can mend what she did. “Oh, forget it. It’s just a silly joke, and I thought-“

Adrien’s laugh interrupts her. The kind of laugh where he clutches onto the railing and throws his head back. The kind that makes her heart flutter a bit more and realize he had moved closer to her while he had laughed.

“That’s a good one,” he finally says. “I had to really think it through. I would’ve never thought to make a pun like that.”

“Thanks,” she responds.

“Do you have any more?” Adrien asks, and she swears he looks like the most eager puppy in the world, hoping she’ll fulfill his request.

So, she does. Marinette has, of course, learned plenty of jokes and puns from Chat Noir.

She thinks she’s blushing with the way her cheeks went warm the rest of their conversation, not stopping the rest of their day.

It was actually sunburn, a discovery Marinette hadn’t made until she got home.

Adrien, however, didn’t get sunburnt. He was, however, just as rosy as she.


	4. immortal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 4: immortal

Being immortal wasn’t as fun as everyone had said it was to be. Sure, seeing the world grow and advance was a beauty, and seeing monuments occur over time where a few centuries ago never failed to shock Marinette.

Of course, there were always things that could shock her more. Leave her almost bewitched, entranced and on the edge of the world. A world she had seen every bit of, and yet couldn’t hold a candle to what she admired the most.

People. The people, who lived on the same planet as she but had so much limiting them, so much that kept them from reaching their potential. People that at the same time had so much more than she.

They could, after all, leave the earth and go onto the next stage of life. Marinette couldn’t.

Although, she could be by their side. And somehow, that was enough.

It became sort of a cycle. She’d have someone enter her life. Stay by their side, watch them age and go past years Marinette would never look aged past. She’d accompany them to the end, and lay a kissed goodbye when her longest known friend came to collect them.

It was always a new experience, finding friends. Sometimes they’d leave too soon, or fade away from the picture before she could see them to the end. But other times, Marinette could keep track of it all.

The best times were when she found love.

Once, it was with a musician. A kind one, with soft eyes and gentle touches on an instrument that outdated the guitar. Who spoke amazing words and painted the air when he sang and left all too soon, a goodbye she hadn’t wished for.

She found love once more, this time in the form of a bold journalist. A woman who never failed to search for the truth, who rose to prominence during a time women were taking back their independence. Who understood her better, and who fought hard to find a way they could stay together.

She never found it.

Marinette’s found something different this time, though. She’s found a new person to stay by. A guy who comes off a lot shyer than he actually is, who tells jokes she’s heard over the course of hundreds of years yet laughs like it’s her first time. Who smiles at her and makes her heart soar. Who’s got eyes greener than all the emeralds in the earth, and a heart as big as the moon.

Who’s someone she’s ready to accompany to the end with, someone she’s half-hoping finds a way to stick around.


	5. masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 5: masquerade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this in deadass 30 min because i forgot to post today whoops no one roast me if it's ugly

The ball was supposed to be exciting. Thrilling even. An open invitation to everyone in the kingdom, free admission and nothing but a rule to wear a mask and live freely, away from the strict restrictions society placed on all.

Marinette hadn’t needed much convincing from Alya to attend. She had always dreamt of a night like this occurring, and even more when it begged for her to create something for them to wear, dresses that would look more magnificent than anyone else’s. She spent time away from the bakery in the fabric shops, looking for fabrics that she could turn into art. She’d look through old pattern catalogs, examine possible patterns, and sketch up new designs that could be applied. She would lie awake at night, thinking of new additions to the dresses and wind up getting out so she could continue work.

In fact, Marinette had spent so much time dreaming and working on the dresses, she had nearly forgotten the end result, the reason for it all. At least, up until Alya showed up to her house the night of the ball and rushed getting the two ready, not sparing them much time before they’d have to rush for the carriages taking citizens to the palace.

Now, heading up the steps, Marinette clutched Alya’s arm tighter, her nerves getting the best of her.

“Maybe we should’ve stayed home,” she mutters.

“Don’t bail on me now, Mari,” Alya whispers, smiling as they passed the guards holding open the doors. “We’re here, we’re dressed to the nines, and we are going to have a fun night.”

“I just hope I don’t do anything silly.” Marinette steps with purpose now, each footstep mindful of where it lands. She’d just about die if she slipped or tripped, especially with dozens of masked attendees around the two.

“Just relax. Remember, you’re not Marinette tonight,” Alya says. “You’re behind a mask. You can be whoever you want to be tonight. Think about all the hopeful men who would throw themselves at their feet for someone like you.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “You act like I’ll find someone tonight. It’s just a ball. Who is interested in finding someone to court when they’re masked?”

“You’d be surprised. I’m sure half the men here are on the search for someone to court tonight.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Marinette laughs. “There is just no way that’s possible.”

They finally stepped into the ballroom, already beginning to crowd with all the guests. Masked, there was less hesitation in dancing amongst the attendants, several twirling each other around on the floor or moving on their own. A band (masked as well for what Marinette could only assume was comical effect) were playing a lively tune, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the song. She let her eyes dance around the room, admiring the outfits many had on.

When they rest, it’s on a man with blonde hair. A man who’s laughing a joke someone made to him, hand clasping their shoulder and tossing their head back. A man whose mask is marvelous, a true piece of work, and tied securely to his face. A man who’s wearing a pin declaring a certainly high rank, one that anyone without royal education could point out. A man whose gaze has gone away from his friend and is currently trained on her, bright green that stands out against the black of his mask.

Who smiles, and moves his head ever so slightly as to invite her over.

Alya thinks faster than Marinette does, leading the two over before she’s even had time to process it all.

“It looks like,” she starts, “we’ll have the chance to see if I’m right about the men here.”

“What’s your name?” he asks her once they’ve gotten close. Alya’s pulled his friend away to talk to him, and seems to get along quite fine, leaving Marinette to function with an incredibly handsome man, one who holds out his hand for her to take and looks so kindly at her she feels her heart stop and start up in one breath.

She opens her mouth to answer, but remembers what Alya told her when they arrived. She’s not Marinette tonight. She’s masked and free and can be anyone she wants to.

So, she smiles, and extends a hand, and answers with a confidence she hadn’t noticed she had, “Ladybug.”


	6. blind date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 6: blind date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're gonna FUCK and we all gotta accept it

“So, I’m guessing Nino didn’t tell you about this, huh?” Marinette asks, dipping her nail into her glass of water. She played with the ice cube that was floating on top and looked over at him, a blonde-haired guy who kept glancing down at his phone for a message he’d never receive and a tailored shirt she knew cost more than the meal she’d eat.

Adrien. Her best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend. The guy who had been mentioned a handful of times by the couple, but never formally introduced. The guy she was stuck with for the next two hours, tricked into what she thought was a group hangout.

“No,” he says, finally locking his phone and setting it down. “And Alya-?”

“You know she wouldn’t tell me,” Marinette answers. “I should’ve known something was up when she asked me to show up early and get the table.”

“At least you didn’t give Nino the keys to your car.” Adrien glanced out the window, his car still missing from the parking space. “I bet he and Alya are having the best of times taking it out for a spin.”

“Hope they leave the gas tank full when they come back.”

Adrien laughs, leaning back in his chair. “You know they won’t.”

“Yeah, probably not,” she agrees, a chuckle of her own coming out. Her eyes flickered over to the clock mounted on the wall. Barely fifteen minutes had passed since they connected the dots.

“Do you think revenge would be the proper route here?” he suddenly asks, catching her attention. Marinette blinks, looking over at Adrien.

“Revenge?” she repeats, arching a brow. “For what?”

“For setting us up,” Adrien says. “They trapped us here, took my car and your keys, and now we’re stuck here until they come back like kids at daycare.”

“I mean, you do have a point…” Marinette bites her lip, thinking out loud. “And it’s not like they would be expecting it…”

“_Exactly_,” he says, pointing a finger at her. “I doubt they’d plan this night if they thought we’d wind up planning how to get back at them.”

“And what do you think they wanted to happen?” Marinette asks before she can think it through. They freeze, looking at each other.

Marinette’s cheeks warm up, grabbing her glass of water and taking quick sips to cool down. There’s too much to decipher from a question like that, a bit too suggestive and all too much like a flirt that, under different circumstances, she’d feel a little proud for saying it.

Of course, this wasn’t a different circumstance. She was saying it to a total stranger, and one who was mutual best friends with _her_ best friends. Adrien, a guy she hadn’t even gotten the chance to remember his last name, and someone who looked totally flustered right now.

Although, was that such a bad thing to cause? Was it really, with the way his cheeks turned pink and he was opening and closing his mouth in such a silly way, looking for something to say? 

“Why don’t we pick out what to order?” he finally suggests, reaching for his menu. He raises it up to cover most of his face, only his eyes shown. Marinette smiles, reaching for hers as well and raising it to conceal most of her face as well.

It’s not like it works. They catch each other looking over plenty of times, before darting back to the menus. And once the waiter comes to take their menus and orders, there’s nothing in between the two but the table.

At least, for now of course.


	7. arranged marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 7: arranged marriage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes HE'S the prince yes they're both running away yes they're gonna fall in love no i don't want to write another 1k dkjdsds

Marinette hadn’t wanted to get married. Not in the slightest, and especially not when it meant she’d have to give up her freedom for a life she never wanted. Becoming the Princess Consort, married to the king’s only son and taken away from all she had known, was all too much to take in and nowhere near close the life she had pictured for herself, something she repeatedly told her family.

Not like it had mattered. Her family were high ranking artisans, and by getting married they were ensuring a successful future for their daughter, one that help create a line of royalty for their bloodline to come from. It had been less of a choice at the end of the day and more of an arrangement, and one that couldn’t be argued in front of the king for.

So, Marinette would need to settle for it, even while she longed to be elsewhere, away from a future with a man she had never met. A man who _no one_ besides a select few had met, the prince’s upbringing confined to his room and rare trips out to practice fencing or horseback riding. Marinette wouldn’t come face to face with him until the day of their wedding, and neither would the members of the royal court and a select few from around the kingdom. 

Her nerves rose at that revelation. Surely a man who grew up secluded from the world wouldn’t know how to adjust to the married life, or know how to go past formalities with her. It’d be a loveless marriage. And for Marinette, as far as she was concerned, the only important thing in a marriage was the love.

It had been an easy decision, once she was offered the chance. A chance to run away, start anew in a new village, where one of the maids in the castle had a daughter, someone who could help her out. A way to ensure her family wouldn’t suffer at the hands of the king should she outright refuse during the ceremony. She’d be a fool to turn it down.

On the eve of her wedding, Marinette snuck out of the castle. The maids had grown to like her during the months she lived in the castle, and worked together to ensure she’d have a safe and effective way to leave undetected. They whispered promises of contacting her family and wishes of good fortune, and made sure she was dressed as undetectable as could be.

The original plan had been to walk, taking breaks when she could and making good use of the supply of food they gave her. It’d be a week’s journey, and hard enough for any regular traveler, but more than complicated when she’d be on the hunt by the guards from the castle and unused to the trip. Still, Marinette was confident enough that she could make it. She had hope, and that was more important than ever when it came to such a journey.

She had barely gotten past the edge of the village when someone riding a horse stopped by her, slowing down so as to not kick up dirt as he passed. He was wearing dark clothing and seated on top of a fine steed, the horse’s coat blending in well under the cover of darkness.

“What’s a lady like yourself doing walking around at the witch’s hour?” he asks, the cloak on his face hiding his features.

“I’m headed to visit my family,” she says. The maids had been very clear on what lies she could say to support herself, and she tests this one out on him. “They live in the next village over, so it shouldn’t be such a harsh journey.”

“You’re walking about at night? Surely if they were the next village over it would be safer to journey at daytime.”

“It was an emergency. I’m needed at once. What about you, stranger?” Marinette asks, eyes looking over his outfit, and the horse she knew must’ve been costly. “I don’t suppose you’re riding your horse out late for entertainment.”

He shifts, not saying anything in response. As he moves, Marinette spots a bag, most likely filled with gold coins like the one she concealed was. In a moment, it makes sense to her.

Both were headed somewhere.

“Where are you headed?” she asks him, eyebrows narrowed. He raises a hand to his face, moving the cloak so his eyes and nose are visible as he finally makes eye contact with her.

_Green_, she notes. A tuft of hair emerges as well, and she keeps check with that too. _Blonde_.

“Away from here. Away from a life I’m not particularly fond of,” he says. “And you?”

He’s direct. Honest. Not a single waver in his voice. Marinette bites, her lip, thinking if she should be too.

She decides to.

“I’m headed somewhere new. Away from here. Away from… being someone I’m not.”

“Can I join you?” he asks, startling her.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t have anywhere on my mind,” he starts, eyes darting away from her as he continues, “I… I have nowhere to go and no idea where I’m headed. If… If you’d allow it, I’d be more than grateful to accompany you to wherever you’re planning to go and start anew as well.”

Extending a hand, he waits for her. Marinette thinks. Gazes at his horse. Thinks about the long journey ahead, where she’d be walking for days on end. Days without anyone by her side, no one who could prepare her for all she was giving up in order to gain more. She flickers her gaze back to his face, where he looks at her with wide eyes.

Kind eyes.

Reaching up, she took his hand.

“I can help tell you the way,” she says, hand fitting snug in his. “If that’s fine by you, of course.”

His mouth is still concealed, but she can tell he’s smiling the way his eyes crinkle. “That’s more than enough for me.”

He pulls her up in one motion, Marinette clinging her free hand onto his body to support herself. When she’s secure enough she won’t fall off, and he’s made sure everything’s fine, they proceed, the horse slowly making their way ahead.

Onto a new life, and away from what was expected of them.


	8. podcast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 8: podcast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo FUCK this day i could not push myself to write this for the WORLDDDDD

The Ladyblog Podcast was a brilliant idea of sorts. Finally, a direct link that went past blog posts and allowed Alya to finally get close to the vast network of Ladybug fans. Nino already led the school radio, and with just enough pushing they had convinced the school to let them borrow the equipment used for their recordings.

Now, the only issue was getting Marinette and Adrien on board.

“C’mon guys, I swear it’s more fun than it seems! We’ll get to talk, and discuss, and like actually get to see all of our thoughts on Ladybug and Chat Noir,” Alya says, pointing her ice cream spoon at the two across the table.

“I don’t know, Al,” Adrien says, a hand coming to rub the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m just so busy and well, I’m not sure if my dad’s totally down with me being on something not with the Agreste brand.”

“You act like you’ve listened to your dad before,” Alya responds, chuckling. “Adrien, don’t you think it’d be fun to talk about Ladybug and Chat Noir? Nino and I planned the entire first podcast to be about who we think are behind the mask!”

Marinette bites down hard on her straw, stopping the flow of her shake in the hopes she doesn’t choke. “Really?” she asks, trying to appear cool. “The first episode is about _that_?”

“We thought it’d be best to dive right in, really get to what’s on everyone’s minds. It was either that or figure out if they’re really dating, but honestly I think we can make that into a multi episode kinda thing, you know?”

Adrien practically squeaks, nudging Marinette’s foot under the table. They watch as Alya takes a spoonful of ice cream and holds it to her lips, waiting for what she still has to say.

“You know,” Alya says before she takes a bite, “I can see why Adrien wouldn’t be down – even if it’s some bullshit excuse about his dad – but if I’m right, you have nothing up that would interfere with the podcast. Come on girl, you’re lying if you don’t wanna join in!”

“I’m sure I’m fine,” Marinette tells her. “Jagged has been planning for me to design his new line of concert outfits, so there’s just no way I’ll have to spare.”

Alya frowns, putting the spoon finally in her mouth. “You two are no fun. I thought you two out of everybody would be excited for it.”

“Why?” Adrien asks.

“Don’t act dumb, Adrien. Nino’s told me dozens of times how much you love Ladybug, and Marinette’s practically visited by Chat Noir like once a week. Wouldn’t you guys be over the moon for it?”

They both freeze, cheeks reddening. Looking at each other, there’s a battle in their gazes as they do some silent conversation Alya can’t even begin to decipher. She watches the two, seeing raised brows, shifting looks, and is she seeing it right – _eye rolls from Marinette_?

“What are you two going on about?” she finally interrupts. Marinette and Adrien turn, looking at Alya with wide eyes.

“What do you mean?” Marinette asks.

“You guys are being weird, more than usual. Is there some reason neither of you want to join in on the podcast?”

Adrien scrunches up his face, trying to think of the best way to talk their way out of a situation they were already too deep in.

“It’s complicated,” Marinette says, stepping in before he said something they couldn’t go back on.

Alya takes another spoonful of ice cream before she points the empty spoon at them again. “Complicated?” she repeats, laughing. “What, do you guys know their identities already or something? Is being onto the podcast like ‘too risky’?”

She’s waiting for them to join in, to laugh with her and brush off her teasing, but it doesn’t come. Instead, she’s looking at an even redder duo, about two seconds away before Marinette and Adrien start doing that weird stare-off again. Setting down her spoon, she trains her eyes on them intensely.

“Wait. Do you guys _actually know_?”

Adrien answers with a meek “No.”

Marinette doesn’t make it far enough to think of something good enough to say. Instead, she spills her shake on the table and distracts Alya long enough they can make a safe getaway before she tries asking them again.


	9. restaurant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 9: restaurant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl kinda like this for something i pumped out in 50 min

Marinette was sure the restaurant was a front for something. It _had_ to be. There was just no way possible that such a place could function with peculiar hours, constant renovations, and one too many ‘inspections’ for the Prefecture to ignore, even if they hadn’t quite narrowed down the options just yet. And, as lead detective on the case, Marinette was determined to figure out what went on behind the doors at _L’Agreste_, no matter the cost.

Although, with a place so upscale and expensive, the cost was starting to run pretty high.

“You’re lucky the Prefecture is paying for all of this,” Alya says, sipping her wine glass and looking over at Marinette. Also a detective on the case, she had been dragged out to accompany her on their first stakeout, which was starting to become less of a _stakeout_ and more of a _steak out_.

“It’ll all be well worth it after we figure out what’s going on,” Marinette assures her, viewing the meat options on the menu.

“Do you have any ideas?” 

Marinette sighs, setting down her menu and looking at Alya. “Other then what I want to eat? I’ve got nothing.”

“Great,” Alya responds, shaking her head and setting down her glass. “We’re dressed up, having an expensive dinner together, and at the end of the night we’ll still be nowhere closer than to what’s going on. This is just _perfect_.”

“You’re telling me.” Marinette sighs, leaning back in her chair and staring at the light hanging above them. “If we don’t have something to report at the end of the week, Fu will have our asses over his fireplace.”

“Let’s list off our possible theories while we can. It’ll give us something to do while we wait for the waiter to come by and take our order.”

Marinette closes her eyes, repeating the things she had scribbled in her notebooks earlier, “Tax evasion. Money laundering. Drug ring, but that doesn’t hold much promise as a legitimate thing unless we have something that we can connect to.”

“And any possible bad guys we can trace to?”

“No one, at least, not anyone that I’ve seen yet.”

Alya shakes her head, biting her lip. “It doesn’t make any sense,” she says. “We should have something by now. It’s baffling how we’ve been on this case for days without anything to follow.”

Marinette traced her finger on the menu, an imaginary drawing as she looks at her best friend. She opens her mouth to say something, but quickly shuts it, eyes training past Alya to the passing figure, a tall and strong man.

“Alya,” she whispers once they’ve passed, “I can’t believe this. Did you see who that was?”

“The maître d’?”

“No. Well, yes, but _no_. That was _the Gorilla_.”

Alya’s eyes perk up, her head almost turning to gaze back but forcing herself to remain calm. “You’re kidding.”

“How did we not notice before?” Marinette asks. “Look at him. That’s _him_. It has to be.”

“Why is an ex drug dealer working as the head waiter at a place like this?” Alya furrows her brows. “It can’t make sense. There’s no way someplace this upscale would even attempt to have someone here working, unless- “

“They’re doing something that needs his experience,” Marinette finishes, a smile growing on her face. “That’s it. This is our lead. If we follow this, then we should- ‘’

Alya quickly hushes her, a finger coming across her neck to kill the conversation. Someone comes behind Marinette, tapping her shoulder and causing her to turn back. It’s one of the men working the bar, a tall fellow with two drinks on their tray.

“The fellow over there ordered these for you two,” he says, hands coming to quickly place them on the table. Marinette turns, seeing the only man at the bar, a man in a tailored suit and head turned so she only sees blond hair.

“Oh, we don’t- “ Marinette starts, but she’s interrupted by him.

“He wants you two to enjoy your night,” he says, a hand coming back onto the table to smooth down the tablecloth. Marinette can swear she sees a flash of white as he does so, and when he removes his hand there’s something folded in its place.

“Someone will be here soon for your order.”

And just like that, he’s back to the bar, leaving the two. Alya dips her finger in to test her drink, and when her nail polish doesn’t change color, she arches a brow. It’s good. Nothing done to it. Perfectly safe to drink.

But why would he buy the two drinks out of the blue? During the time where they had finally gotten something to start off their case in the right direction?

A hand coming to grab the folded piece of paper, Marinette hides it in her lap. She opens it tentatively, with one last glance at the man at the bar, the man who’s raising a finger for one more drink at the bartender. Turning her neck back, she reads what it has to say, and sucks in a breath.

_You and your friend are pretty smart. But I’d keep it down if I were you. You wouldn’t want anyone to overhear, right?_

_-A.A. _


	10. fairytale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 10: fairytale

Once upon a time, there had been a curse. A curse that had originally been intended for the Agreste’s firstborn daughter, an evil mark onto her so horrific it’d alter her life from the moment she came into the world. It would’ve would’ve torn her away from their family and cast her out before she could even realize what was happening, forced to bear a burden no one else could ever picture having for the rest of her life.

A curse by a witch’s hand, a witch unwilling to take it back in favor of the chaos it’d give to the kingdom. The king and queen, overcome with worry for what would come in the passing months, had sought out the guidance and advice from dozens of magick holders. They tried countless spells and potions, and went so far as to find an enchanted midwife, hoping to overcome the evil with good.

Nothing came from it. So, the king and queen wished for a miracle on the eve of her birth, hoping someone would hear their cry and provide some solace. The wicked witch lay in shadows of the kingdom, readying herself to sweep in and take the child upon her birth, to raise her under her influence and turn her evil power into a force she could use to her benefit. To further her power and take over the kingdom, using the royals own blood against them.

But then, something miraculous happened. They had a _son_. Adrien, first of his name and heir to the throne.

A son, instead of the daughter they had been expecting, and the daughter that had been cursed by the witch. A son, who looked like the queen and emerged with a smile on his face, a bundle of joy gifted with dozens of blessings from witches and other enchanted beings, hoping to upset any ill effects that the witch might still hold.

For the first time in the past few months, there had been joy in the kingdom. The witch had been stopped, with nothing to come from her evil doing. The prince was healthy, blessed with gifts from another force of nature. The kingdom could breathe in peace, sure no evil would come back to attack them.

And then, the witch had struck back.

It was first thought to just be a simple sickness, a regular occurrence after a birth. The queen was confined to her room, baby Adrien close by but covered in enchanted covers to ward off any illness. She was visited by several witches, who tried to cast spells to bid her sickness away, with nothing to gain from it. Potions masters lined the castle’s throne room, presenting dozens of elixirs that could perhaps cure her, make her grow better.

She hadn’t. Within a few months she had passed, and with her the light in the kingdom dimmed. And with her love for her son gone, the witch was able to attack directly, to sneak in the shadows and find herself in the prince’s bedroom, the kingdom mourning the loss of their queen and guard dropped when it came to protecting the prince.

It had been a simple enchantment, not as strong as the curse she had intended in the beginning. No, she knew it would be worthless now. The kingdom was already weak enough as is, and if she could afford to do so she’d rather create a mark that hit her target faster.

So, she simply made her mark on Adrien.

The horror that struck the castle when the curse had been found out was unlike any other. A maid who had checked in on him during the night fled from his room, screaming out for calls of help. The guards had been summoned, the king had been woken up, and dozens ran into the room, only to be met with the sickening realization that the witch had finally met her goal.

Baby Adrien, barely old enough to crawl around yet, had been cursed in the dead of night. Cursed with an appearance that left him once the first few rays of sunlight touched down, an appearance that left the king shaken. An appearance that led to every magick holder called to the castle, forced with the task of finding a cure to his curse.

For you see, Prince Adrien hadn’t just been cursed. He was _transformed_, human features shifting into feline ones once the sun went down and moon emerged. He was a horror, a cursed child before he had even learned to speak. A shame for the king, so much so that he decided it was better for everyone should the prince remain locked in his room, locked once the sun begun the set and forbidden to go out into the castle hallways after night fell. Mirrors were removed from his room and windows had been enchanted so a reflection wouldn’t appear if he looked out. He would be fitted for clothes that could adapt to his body change at night, and would have haircuts planned both for his human form and _the figure_ that appeared at night, mentioned in hushed whispers by all the staff.

Adrien had long since given hope of finding a cure for the curse, abandoning it even while his father and the countless witches that visited him continued to insist he’d keep up hope. He refused to buy into their hopeful wishes, the years sculpting him from a kid without friends into a young man without anyone by his side. No, he wouldn’t bother with any more optimism, not after he had his youth stolen from him at the hands of a witch with no morals.

Then he had met Marinette.

The young woman who had started to reside at the castle, who was tasked with making his new outfits and fitting him on the first of every new month. Who had been told of the prince’s curse upon arrival to the castle, and still agreed to take on the job. Who hadn’t shuddered or flinched when she had to fit him during one of his transformations, her actions around him the same as they had been the times she needed to fit him before.

Who had nice hair and smelled sweet. Who would visit him in the morning, just after the sun’s first ray had appeared, to hand him a bag filled with baked goods, goods he had later found out hadn’t been made by the kitchen staff but by _her_.

Marinette, who was the first person to tell him he shouldn’t hold onto hope if he didn’t believe in it. Who told him it was better to live happy than surrounded by dreams that wouldn’t come true, even while he begun to find hope in something else, something that perhaps _could_ come true.

Marinette, who had kissed him in the dead of night, and broke the curse.


	11. body swap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 11: body swap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when you were 500 words into a different kind of playout but remembered kimi no na wa so you scrap that and make an entirely new fic :))))))

Waking up in a new body every other day had been… unsurprisingly, hard to get used to. Still, she did, with no other choice but to grit her teeth and figure out what to make of it.

There was little to figure out, she had soon realized. No clue, no solution, nothing of the sort that could help Marinette get to the bottom of it all, down to the bottom of why she’d wake up in an entirely new setting with an entirely different lifestyle.

And of course, there was always the fact she was not only in another person’s body, but a _guy_ at that.

Random switches with a guy she had never met, another citizen of Paris and no clue to track him down with. Someone who always had on the finest fabrics even as he slept, and had the newest of everything stocked up on his shelves, and who Marinette wanted to get in contact with back in her own body, no matter how hard it seemed to be.

But, for as much as Marinette wanted to keep contact with him, she’d wake up with little memory of the night, half thinking it was a dream until something shocked her back into that memory. Picking up a pencil would remind her of him autographing posters, or changing her clothes gave her bouts of phantom pain, recalling the bruises and scratches she acquired tripping over something while in his body. It was always something small, and not ever something strong enough that she’d be able to trace him the day after.

Like his name. Or, how he looked like. She supposed it was the same for him too, or else he would’ve reached out to Marinette by now, met each other and got the whole thing settled out.

But nothing had happened. They were on two sides of a lake, with no boat or raft that would help them get across to the other.

At least, until he found one.

_Tell your parents to ease up with the bakery work! It’s too much! _decorated her right arm one morning, written out in her favorite pen and painfully hard to scrub away. She listened, and found a _Thanks!_ written in the same spot the next time they switched.

They begun to switch back and forth with a game of questions and answers, some being easy fixes-

_What’s the password to your school account? I can never log onto do your homework! _

-and some being a little harder to give into.

_Can I take showers when I’m in your body? I’ll let you wash mine. _

For a while, Marinette got used to the whole thing, even as weird as it was. Getting in contact with him, getting to remember some things she couldn’t while in his body, and making sure to read up on them all occupied the time she had to herself, was more than enough for her after so long being out of the loop. And while Marinette didn’t have everything, she had enough to keep herself going, give herself hope that maybe one day, they would meet.

And maybe they would, Marinette realizes, when she woke up one morning and saw scrawled on her thigh, _Want to meet at the Seine on Friday?_

She left him with her answer the next time they switched, him waking up to a _yes_ written in the same place, along with a time neither would be able to forget.

Meeting him was a one of a kind moment, an out of body experience only they would be able to relate to. Marinette saw him, saw him without the use of mirrors and reflections. She saw him and felt her heart soar, saw on his arms words that hadn’t quite been so easy to wash away and hair she always had trouble keeping out of her eyes. She reached out and touched him, running her hands over the same spots she had felt herself when she was in his place. Marinette leaned forward, and felt arms coming around her to engulf her in a hug.

And then night came, and they had to leave each other’s side. Of course, it wasn’t so hard to do so, not when each other knew they’d be in each other’s place the next day. Not when they were already discussing each other’s plans for tomorrow, giving advice on how to act and what to say and what to do.

Not when he wrote down his name on her hand, right before he gave her a kiss and told her to open it when she got home, to write it down so she wouldn’t forget, so it wouldn’t be so hard to find each other again.

Marinette promised. And she went home, and fell asleep, and forgot to open it and check.

The next morning, there was no shift. No switch. No change in their bodies. Marinette woke up, and found herself in her own bedsheets, looking around and seeing the bedroom she had grown up in. She looked around, and felt dread seeping into her bloodstream.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It couldn’t. She was supposed to be in _his_ body, and getting ready for _his_ day, and writing down something on _him_, something for him to remember her with.

_Like he had for her. Last night_, Marinette suddenly recalled. Looking down at both hands, she opened them, reading what was written on one palm.

_I love you. _

Marinette closed her eyes, biting her lips as she racked her brain for anything else. Nothing. Opening her eyes again, she saw the same thing written.

_I love you._

That was it? That was all? How could she find someone with those their only parting words? Her only memory of this guy, who’s face she couldn’t recall for the life of her, who’s body and voice were slipping from her mind, who was starting to fade more and more from her existence, who-

Who was Marinette thinking about?


	12. teachers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 12: teachers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> teachers is so hard y para que???? PARA QUE??? para NADAAAAAA that's what it's so hard for i stg i wanna DIE

Marinette was failing chemistry. Well, not _failing_, but close enough that it felt like that. There was no way to get it all sorted out in her brain, and every time she looked into her textbook, she felt like she was reading gibberish. Videos online explaining didn’t help a bit, the notes she had <strike>stolen</strike> borrowed from Alya were no good when she had trouble figuring out Alya’s handwriting, and every Google search for answers led to even more questions than before.

To summarize her second semester troubles, she was fucked. Royally, stupidly, majorly fucked. So much so that Marinette was wondering if there was some magical being out there that could fix all her issues, load her brain with all the knowledge she could hold, and send her off on her way to ace everything that came at her.

That’s where Adrien stepped into the picture.

“I’m so happy you agreed to this,” she says, watching as he flipped through the pages in his notebook to find just the right page he could tutor from.

“Of course,” he says, stopping at a page covered in highlighted words and attached sticky notes. “It’s the least I can do, Marinette.”

“The least?” she asks, eyebrow raised. “C’mon Adrien, you’re literally saving my grade just by agreeing to share a few notes. You’re like, an everyday superhero by that standard.”

“Am I now?” Adrien smiles, a hand coming up to press the glasses perched on his nose. “I’m glad staying after office hours in Monsieur Caron’s class paid off after all.”

Marinette bit her lip, cheeks warming up. He didn’t mean that, did he? Surely, he said that to every student who came to him for help, just another part of being the teacher’s aide and the campus’ top student, right?

Shaking her head, Marinette got her mind in order. That wasn’t important right now. Schoolwork was.

Seated together in the library, the comforting sound of hushed discussions going on around them and the hum of the printer being used, sent her focusing in on the matter at hand. There were only a few weeks left in the semester, and Marinette needed to get prepared for the final, no matter how difficult that might be.

Adrien was the key part in that, already jotting down some numbers on the paper for her and rolling up his sweater sleeves, the soft wool bunching up on his arms in an effort to avoid rubbing against ink.

“This,” he starts, pointing at it with the capped end of his pen, “is Avogadro’s law. It’s probably the most important thing you need to nail if you want to pass next week’s test, so I think we should start on that before anything-“

“There’s a test _next week_?” Marinette asks, interrupting him. She groans, tossing her head back and looking to the ceiling as if in need of a sign from the heavens to keep going. “I can’t believe this.”

Adrien laughs, turning his body her way. “Yes,” he says, “but please don’t let anyone else know. Monsieur Caron will _kill_ me if he finds out I’ve been telling the lesson plans to the other students.”

“My parents will kill _me_ if I fail this class,” Marinette says, already imagining the phone calls if they find out she flunked out of a class. Looking back down, she sees the numbers Adrien’s written and sighs.

“It’s not that hard, I promise,” he assures her. “We can do it step by step until you’ve gotten the hang of it.”

“I don’t want to keep you here all night.”

“Don’t worry.” He scoots closer to her. “I don’t mind.”

They work at it for close to a hour, Adrien repeating or explaining parts as to how the law worked, and how to apply it to the section of the textbook they needed to cover. Pointing at various notes, he tries to best to make it as easy as possible, going so far as writing out fake problems for her to answer.

In the end, she winds up with a headache and about half her problems right, more than enough for the two to be satisfied.

“I’m proud,” Adrien says, packing up his notes. “You did really well today, Marinette.”

She can feel her cheeks go red as she smiles at him, ducking her head and pretending she’s searching in her bag for something. “Thank. It’s not as difficult as I thought, now that you helped out a bit.”

“I’m free tomorrow if you want. After hours of course,” Adrien says. “We can go through the next subject and get you geared up for the test.”

“That’d be great actually,” Marinette responds, before her face falls flat. “But, I’m helping Mme. Bisset with grading essays.”

“Really?” he asks, looking away from his backpack and setting his notebook back down. “_You’re_ Bisset’s teacher aide?”

“Well, in the works to. Next semester she wants me on board, but right now we’ve just been testing the waters for now. It’s kinda fun, actually.”

“You’re _kidding_,” Adrien exclaims. “I can barely figure out what Mme. Bisset means half the time. How can you understand any of it?”

Marinette laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Now you know how I feel,” she says. “If you want, I could maybe help you out?”

“_Please_. I’ve been a wreck all semester trying to figure out what exactly she wants in an essay. I could really use the help.”

“Well then,” Marinette says, reaching into her bag and pulling out her literature notebook, “if you’re up for it, I could offer you an hour of tutoring to pay off the hour you gave me in chemistry help.”

“It’s a deal,” he says without hesitation, smiling so wide his cheeks make his glasses slip down his nose. “I can’t tell you how amazing this’ll be for me.”

Marinette admires the color of his eyes, the way they crinkle and show off laugh lines she hadn’t noticed before. She looks at his nose, so close and cute she almost wants to touch it with her finger. His smile, with teeth spread so wide in happiness because of her.

She looks at him, and realizes it might be even more amazing for her to have him by her side.

“No worries,” Marinette finally responds with, opening up her notebook and moving her eyes away from his face. “You’d do the same for me, after all.”


	13. horror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 13: horror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls i'm so tired i need to get this makeup off my face and go to BED

Marinette inched towards the sliding glass door, a knife in her hand and eyes trained on what lay before her. She could feel her hand shaking, tightening her hold on the knife until it dug in too deep and drew blood, running down her hand to drip on the floor, a repetitive noise that kept in tune with every step she took.

_Drip… Drip... Drip…_

Her free hand coming out, Marinette touched the door with her free hand tentatively, holding onto the handle and trying as hard as she could to open it without too much noise. It didn’t work, a loud _screech_ as she pushed it sounding out into the night and causing her to duck next to the door, sheltering herself while she waited. Waited for him to arrive, to come in and attack her in the same way he had done her friends earlier in the night.

Marinette felt her breathing pick up, closing her eyes and trying to control the way her chest went up and down as she did so. Whispering out words that never came in contact with the air, words that strayed from prayer to outright begging, hoping that someone would hear her and spare her. 

Nothing happened, Marinette realized after a second, eyes opening to look around in fear. So far, she was safe.

So far.

Finally getting the courage to rise up once more, Marinette took an exhale, pressing her back against the wall and the open glass door ready for her to walk in. In one motion, she could go through and exit, find the nearest way out. She could get help even, or take off before the killer caught her.

Marinette shook her head, cross with herself for even thinking that. No, she couldn’t leave her friends behind. She just couldn’t, not with a murderer on the loose and ready to strike. Readying the knife, she quickly turned, taking quick steps and feeling her bare feet feel the patio wood.

The wood wasn’t all she felt. No, she felt something wet on her feet. Wet, and thick, and almost making her slip as she moved. Looking for the source, she gasped when she saw it. No, not it.

_Them_.

Not a few steps away from her lay the body of her best friend, laid out and staring motionless up at the sky. Looking at her stomach, Marinette noticed the blood coming from it, where she must’ve been stabbed at.

Blood that, Marinette realizes, looked too fresh and felt too warm. She clutches her knife tighter, feeling dread start up in her stomach, unsure of what’ll come next.

So much so she doesn’t realize the person inching towards her, not until the last second where she’s turned her head back and sees the man with a knife held above her, hidden in the shadows.

She screams, the kind that draws up pain in her throat and makes her cheeks go red. She screams and braces herself for the hit, body flinching in anticipation.

“And _cut_!” the director exclaims, stopping the scene. “That’s a wrap for today!”

Marinette smiles, exhaling and blowing a strand of hair off of her face. Handing the knife over to an assistant, she straightens her posture. “Was that good?” she asks, watching the camera pull back from her close-up.

“Was that good?” he repeats, brow raised. “That was _great_! You have a real talent here!” The director clapped his hands, obviously thrilled with her performance. Looking at the monitors, which were playing back the scene, he pointed at one clip, her pressed up against the wall. “God, I knew you were the best choice for the role of Bridgette!”

“I told you,” Alya says, leaning up on her elbows and looking at the crew from her spot on the floor. A crew assistant was right next to her, holding out a fan to cool off her face and another patting away the excess blood so she could get up. “She’s a natural at this.”

Marinette blushes, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t say that…”

“No, don’t do this, Marinette. You deserve every compliment you get,” Alya continues. “This role was _made_ for you, girl.”

“I’m seeing plenty of nominations come award season with this,” their director says, nodding. “Keep this up and you’ll be the talk of the town. In your debut role too!”

“Yeah,” Marinette says. “This is incredible.”

And it was. A few months ago, she had been lucky to become friends with Alya at an upscale club one night. Alya Césaire, an up and coming actress scattered about in the past year’s most talked about films and shows. Alya Césaire, who somehow pulled the right strings and landed Marinette an interview for this film out of the blue, an audition she forced her to go to.

An audition that led to her appearing as one of the lead roles, star-studded cast surrounding her everywhere she turned.

Everywhere including just off the set, sitting in a chair and watching her. Her eyes catching his, he gave a small wave, one that made her cheeks go even warmed.

Adrien. He played Félix, her character’s love interest for the movie. And, if the world worked right for once, perhaps he’d become something close to that in real life.

“Hey, what’s Adrien doing here?” Alya asks, finally off the ground and wrapped in a robe. “I thought he wasn’t needed on set today.”

Marinette doesn’t answer, lip caught between her teeth and eyes trained on the man of the hour. Alya smirks, before nudging Marinette. She jumps, her hand already raised to react.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Marinette almost exclaims out, lowering her arm and putting a hand to her chest in an attempt to check her heartbeat. Alya, covered in blood and only a few inches away from her, giving her a smile that could give most villains a run for their money, Marinette would’ve sworn they were still shooting.

“You’re starring in a horror film,” Alya points out. “How scared can you possibly get?”

“Plenty scared.”

“Wait until they hear about this during interviews,” Alya says, shaking her head and laughing. “They’re gonna eat you alive.”

“God, I hope not.” Marinette took her hand, leading the two off the stage and headed for the refreshment table. She grabs a cookie, biting into it harshly as she continues, “Everything in this movie feels so different with it being fake, but in real life… I wouldn’t last a minute as Bridgette.”

“Really?”

“Definitely not.”

Alya reaches over for a cookie of her own. “Are you sure about that? I saw you doing quite fine as her with Adrien just last week on set.”

Marinette blushes. She thought back to last week, where they had one intense scene. It was during the climax of the movie, where Bridgette and Félix were alone together and making good use of the time they had, all up until they found a dead body in the closet of the bedroom.

He had been a _really_ good kisser during that scene, Marinette remembers. So good she had to remember they were still acting, so caught up with him she had forgotten cameras were rolling and people were watching.

Their director had said it had been some of the best acting he’d seen in a long time when it came to a scene like that.

“Okay,” Marinette admits, setting down her cookie. “Maybe not every part of Bridgette’s life is bad.”

“At least Bridgette doesn’t die fifteen minutes before the movie ends,” a voice says behind Alya, the two looking over to see Adrien smiling at them. He waved his script. “Guess who gets murked.”

“_No_,” Alya says. “Did they really?”

“Yep. I finally got to see final scenes of the script today, including my last words.” Adrien looked at Marinette, holding out the script for her to take. “Looks like you’re going to be our sole survivor.”

She takes it from him, letting Alya peak over to read what was left. A tough game of hide and seek, followed by a few close encounters with death, and a romantic reunion with Félix before he’s suddenly killed, a death that leaves to the final showdown between her and the killer. Marinette lets herself take in the scenes, observing the reunion the most.

The reunion, which involved a bit of kissing she wouldn’t mind doing.

“I wanted to drop by and see if you’d be up to practice our last scenes together,” Adrien says. “They only gave me the final script yet, and seeing as they don’t want to hand you one until the end of the week, I think we could share and go over it together, get a real good feel for it.”

_Practicing. Going over it together. Getting a _feel_ for it. _

Marinette couldn’t say no to something like that, no, not at all. In fact, she’s more than willing to agree.


	14. rivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 14: rivals  
or,  
chloe and marinette please become friends i'm begging you too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe what if... i posted late because i'm sleep deprived and too tired to write in the morning... because i keep staying up late to write instead of sleep on time... wouldn't that be funny?

The fashion industry was tough, that Marinette knew without fail. It was cutthroat and ruthless, and she would warn anyone before they took a step in to rethink their choice if they had the chance. There was no telling what type of chaos they would come across, or the stressful nights working on end to the point you couldn’t remember where you had last placed your pencil, much less when was the last time you fell asleep. If anyone cared for themselves, they were better off avoiding it altogether. Every time someone new showed up at the studio, or introduced themselves to her in her office, she would relay it.

Of course, it was always a test when she said that. If someone _really_ wanted to do this, they wouldn’t care what laid in their path, much less the countless hurdles they’d have to go through. If someone was truly into the work and the art and the time that went into what hung on racks in stores, they wouldn’t dare give it all up because they were _scared_.

Marinette knew that because she had gone through it all firsthand, experienced and grew from a smalltime intern into one of the decade’s more prominent designers. She had spent countless hours pouring over her sketches, sacrificed nights to complete her projects, and built up a name worthy enough to get deals with several high-end clothing stores, deals that let her clothes hang with a hefty price tag and a name no one was ashamed to wear.

But still, even she faced her challenges. Take Chloé Bourgeois, for one example.

“It’s not fair how she just walks in and gets everything handed to her!” Marinette exclaims, furiously sticking a pin into her mannequin. It held up the fabric, let her see how it hung down before raising another piece up to be pinned. On her couch, flipping through the latest edition of _Vogue_, Alya was half listening, her legs propped on the cushions and heels digging into the arm.

“I hear you,” Alya responds, not really hearing.

“She thinks she’s all that, but I spotted clothes during her show that were _so_ last season. I bet she barely tried on the line!”

“Mm-hm.”

“And _another_ thing!” Marinette pauses, holding the last pin in her hand and shoving it into the mannequin with extra force as she continues, “She wouldn’t have gotten so far if it wasn’t for her _mom_!”

At that, Alya looks up from her magazine, arching a brow at Marinette. “You know, Audrey was your mentor too. I’m sure I don’t have to point out the fact _both_ of you had basically the same experience.”

“Getting mentored and being raised by the same person are two totally different things,” Marinette says, turning away from her mannequin to look at Alya. “For one, I don’t think Chloé ever had to stay up until 3 in the morning because Audrey wanted dress alterations on the eve of her fashion show. Or had to run up and down three flights of stairs once because the elevator was broken and there was a rooftop photoshoot I needed to drop off clothes at.”

“Listen, I’m not doubting you had it hard. I mean, remember it was _me_ who was massaging your feet after that day?” Alya reminds her, tossing the magazine onto the coffee table and watching her best friend come over. She moved her legs so Marinette can sit down next to her.

Marinette rolls her neck around, a hand coming up to massage the space underneath her ears as she spoke. “I just think it’s not fair. I mean, the girl has _everything_. She never has to work a day in her life if she wants. Why is it that she’s able to just come in, get deals without a care in the world, and release stuff like it’s easy? I’ve worked for _three years_ just to make it here.”

“No one ever gets in easy, you know that Mari. This industry isn’t made for taking shortcuts.”

“I guess you’re right.” Marinette scoots closer to her, leaning on Alya. Smiling, Alya threw her arm around her shoulder, pulling Marinette close.

“Maybe you two would get along better if you just hung out,” she says. “All you two ever do is catty subtweets and glares at one another when you spot each at events. This can’t go on for forever.”

“_Yes,_ it can,” Marinette answers back, too quick to be taken as anything other than stubborn insistence.

“No, it _can’t_. Keeping this up is going to get you nowhere but the face of scandals. You do remember I’m a journalist, and we live for this type of drama?” Alya asks, a quick tight squeeze on Marinette’s shoulder. “If anyone caught wind of this, they’ll spin and make the two of your lives _hell_.”

Marinette bit her lip. Alya was, unfortunately… right. The industry was tough enough as it was, and compliments could easily be turned into disses if the right person spun the story that way.

In fact, just a few weeks ago she had a run-in with Adrien Agreste, and had meant to compliment him, really she had, but the words came out so fast and he had looked so handsome that well, it was less of a compliment and more of a “You look… good. No, not good! _Bad_! No wait, not bad, I mean- “

It hadn’t gone well. If it hadn’t been for the fact Alya was dating Adrien’s best friend, she would’ve never have gotten out of that funk. Or gotten a chance to explain and talk things over dinner, followed by another one. And another one. And one planned for tomorrow.

“If you really want to stand out, being friends with Chloé Bourgeois might be the best thing for you,” Alya says.

Marinette frowns. “I don’t want to be friends with her.”

“Okay. How about acquaintances? Collaborators at least,” Alya amends. “If you have so many thoughts about how she designs, I bet showing her the ropes and releasing something together might benefit the two of you.”

“I guess so. What’s her number?”

Alya scoffs. “I don’t know,” she responds. “Ask Adrien; they’ve been friends since they were like, negative two years old. He’s gotta have it like, memorized by now.”

When Marinette does ask him the next night, he nearly chokes on his wine, too shocked to respond with the numbers for a moment. And when he finally does, it takes Marinette all the strength in the world not to immediately hang up the moment she hears that familiar, snotty voice on the other end of the phone.

_“Chloé Bourgeois speaking. Who are you and why the hell do you have my number?”_


	15. bookstore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 15: bookstore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha the rain wasn't totally inspired by the fact it's literally the second coming of noah in florida haha no not at all!!

“It’s raining,” Marinette says, an obvious statement that she realizes she didn’t have to say out loud. Watching the window, the storm outside didn’t give off any signs of ending, a constant stream attacking the ground and sending puddles to form. She could see tree branches shake from the wind whipping around, leaves shaking off from the force. And for that matter, see the poor people caught outside, struggling to hold onto umbrellas.

Yep, it was indeed raining, a fact anyone could tell. Maybe next she would say that everyone was breathing.

“Do you want a bag?” the cashier asks her, leaning back and watching the storm. Marinette looks at them, the cashier holding out a plastic bag. _Nino_, the name tag proudly says.

“What for?”

“To wear on your head. So you can leave?”

Marinette’s mouth drops open, holding the book she had just purchased closer to her chest. “You want me to leave? In this weather?”

“I mean, you _are_ going to leave, right?”

“Yeah. Just… not while it’s practically rainy enough I expect an ark to pop up,” Marinette responds. “If I go out now, I’ll soak my book and probably my clothes.”

Nino motions to the clock on the wall. “I’m due for break in five minutes,” he says, “and until I’m back, no one’s going to be watching the store front.”

“What am I going to do? Make off with a stack of books?” Marinette asks. “I just told you I’m not getting out and getting one book wet. Do you really think I would take an opportunity to grab more and get those wet as well?”

Sighing, Nino raised his hands. “Listen, they don’t pay me enough to care about this. I’m gonna duck in the back and take my break, so just chill out here until the rain clears up. I’m sure it can’t be that boring being alone with books.”

The sound of something knocking over makes them turn around, watching a guy lean over and pick up a few hardcover copies of books from the ground. He looks up and extends a hand, quickly placing them back in the same way they had originally been in.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

“Alone with him,” Nino corrects, before a quick hand reaches over to the register screen and presses a button. Slip of paper coming out, they snatch it up and start walking towards the back.

“Break time,” he says cheerfully. Making a finger gun at Marinette and patting the guy on the shoulder as he passed him, he disappears behind the door leading to the back and leaves the two in silence.

For a moment. Then Marinette still sees the guy struggling with putting the books he dropped, and she heads over, bending down to grab the ones left.

“Thanks,” he says, grabbing the last one on the floor the same time as she. They still, each gripping an edge to it. Looking at him, Marinette feels her cheeks go warm.

He’s cute. Really cute. Green eyes, and glasses perched on his nose that have tiny scratches on it. He’s smiling at her, and it takes Marinette a moment to realize he’s waiting for her to say something back.

“O-Oh, no problem,” she manages out, before mentally kicking herself for stuttering. “I’m Marinette.”

“Adrien.”

They still haven’t given up hold of the book. Looking down, they each let go at the same time and cause the book to fall on the ground again. Marinette and Adrien lean down to grab again, but bump their heads together as a result.

“Sorry,” she says, pulling back and rubbing her head as she watches Adrien get the book and place it back in its rightful place.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it wouldn’t have hurt as much as reading this story, anyways.”

“You’ve read it before?”

“It’s my favorite,” Adrien says, a hand brushing on the raised lettering on the book’s jacket, feeling out the title. “No matter how many times I’ve read it, I still enjoy it.”

“Spare the details,” she jokes. “I wouldn’t want to get spoiled.”

“You’ve never read it?”

Mariette shakes her head, watching the shock form on his face.

“You’re _kidding_. It’s one of the best books by this author, and totally is better than that one that got too overhyped, if you ask me. You _have_ to give it a read.”

“I would, but I already bought a book today,” Marinette responds, holding her book as proof. “I think my bank balance would kill me if I went out and bought two.”

Adrien grins, grabbing a copy from the table and holding it out. “Who said you have to buy it?” he asks. “We are stuck in here until the rain lets up, remember? Might as well make the best of it while we can.”

Taking a quick peek at the window, Marinette sees the rain hasn’t let up a bit. She smiles, turning her gaze back onto Adrien and grabbing the book from him.

“Well, I can’t say no to an offer like that. And, maybe I can get you to read something I like as well.”

“Maybe,” he says, smiling at her.

They spend about an hour sitting side by side in the kid’s section, on beanbag chairs that are too small to actually get comfortable in and a cutout stand of a cartoon character staring at them. Reading books each had picked out, they stop every few minutes to comment on the characters with each other, glad to talk about the story yet cutting themselves off before they reveal too much.

Neither realizes it stopped raining thirty minutes ago.


	16. supernatural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 16: supernatural

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this at midnight... huh.

The ghost of Adrien’s mother follows him around sometimes. He was scared, when it first started happening. A song sung in the dead of night, followed by the chilling touch of someone brushing against his skin. A flash of white before him, fading away while his eyes adjusted. The feeling of warmth spread throughout his body after, like someone had lit a small fire inside of him. The eyes, practically glowing in the night, being the last thing to leave his room.

He didn’t tell anyone. Who could he? His dad was unresponsive, the few friends he did have were not so close yet he felt comfortable sharing that, and every time he thought about the appearances, he convinced himself it had just been a figment of his imagination, a way to cope after she left him.

So he kept it in. He grew, and the fear turned into comfort, knowing that his mother watched over him. Knowing that on some nights when the weight of the world felt like too much, she would appear and it was all become all right. Adrien was able to see his mother for what she truly was, a hidden gift that allowed him to grow up with her by his side.

He’d talk to her sometimes, even after she left. That was always the funny part, knowing she had left his sight but was still around somewhere, still _there_ with him. He’d turn on the light, or sink into his pillow, and go on for hours about how his day had been, or what was his most recent struggle. Adrien would pause at the right moments and hope for something back in response and continue on after imagining what she’d say back. It was nice, far more easier to do than face his father, who more and more seemed as far away as his mother.

It all changed when he started seeing someone else every other night, a few years after it first started. A girl. No, not a girl. She was older than that, around his age.

From then on, everything became different.

She was pretty, and much more present than his mom was. He supposed the connection had something to do with it. With his mother, his emotions were wild, making her appear clearest on his best days and a mere smudge in reality on his worst. When he was happy, she glowed more. When he felt sad, it seemed like only her eyes held light in them.

But for this person, he felt nothing. At first.

She was easy to see, to watch and observe. The first few nights she hadn’t done much, simply stood and looked around. She left a similar feeling whenever she left though, but this was one that needed to be filled, needed to constantly be lit again. She begun to move around two weeks into it, Adrien waking up to see her walking around his room and looking at the decorations he had. She gazed at everything, sometimes rising a hand upwards to touch before pulling back last minute.

A moving painting, if Adrien could describe her. She was pure art, even while her face was fixed into a permanent sad expression. Lips as red as a ladybug’s wings, and hair dark enough to blend in with the shadows of the room. A far off look in her eyes he learned to focus in on after weeks had passed, the one that determined just how present she’d be.

And then, she started to talk. Speak in whispers, telling him random bits of stories, or talking to someone, someone she must’ve known before. She’d sing sometimes too, in the same way his mother did, but in a different way. His mother sang to soothe Adrien, but she sang to express her feelings. How it felt to be something new, to be closed off from the entire world except from one person. From Adrien, a person she had never known before.

He loved it. He… He felt as if he loved a bit of her too.

Adrien coaxed a name out from her, wanting something to know about her. And she had relented after a few nights, a whisper that sank into his ears.

_Marinette_.

She begun to fade away a few months later, dimming with every visit. Adrien couldn’t understand why, constantly trying to make sense of a new world he had no knowledge in. Whenever his mom appeared, he would talk to her, asking her questions as to what was going on, or how to fix it. She never responded, only giving a small smile. And when she faded away at the end of her visit, he’d continue to talk, trying to find out what the meaning behind it all was.

When Marinette visited for the last time, she was as blurry as ever, a smeared painting begging for someone to make sense of it. She sung one last song, and walked around his room, and just as she was fading away made her way over to Adrien, smiling at him while she leaned over.

He never got to feel what her lips felt like, Marinette having disappeared before they touched. And perhaps he never would, in this life at least.


	17. gamer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 17: gamer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao i forgot to post it to ao3 whoops

For Marinette, gaming wasn’t just a hobby. It was a _competition_, and she was determined to win.

“Do you ever give anyone a break when you play?” Alya asks. Seated on the couch next to her, Alya watched how Marinette went in on the other players, hands moving quicker than her mind and already planning her next move.

“Nope, and I don’t plan to.” Marinette squints, trying to spot anything worth of value to take before spotting another player hidden, already preparing to attack and hiding themselves fairly close to her. Before they get their chance, she nails them with a headshot and grabs whatever they had on them, a good enough set of weapons and shields that make her smile.

“You’re ruthless.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s not a compliment, Mari.”

Marinette focuses in on the last two players, in the middle of a shooting match together. Aiming, she quickly takes one out from long distance and nears to take out the second.

“Well,” she says, gun aimed and watching the person move, firing a shot that makes its target, “I think being a bit ruthless is the way to go.”

“Is it now?” says a voice behind her, one that makes Marinette yelp and lose grip on her controller. It falls to the floor as a “You’ve won!” screen flashes up, her in-game character dancing.

“You scared me!” she exclaims, before seeing the person behind the voice, leaning down to have his head close to her face. Adrien, noses barely brushing. She reacts quickly, pushing herself back and nearly climbing on top of Alya to create some distance.

“Mari, lighten up,” Alya says, hands trying to keep Marinette steady as she practically sat in her lap. “You’re heavier than you look.”

“How did you get in here?” Marinette asks, watching him cautiously. Had she forgotten something? Were there plans she ignored? Oh God, why hadn’t someone warned her earlier, when she could’ve changed out of the oversize shirt and leggings combo she had on?

Which horror, she looked down to see the outfit, one of her favorites comfort wise, but absolutely not style wise.

“Your parents let us in,” Nino says, grabbing her attention as he walked in as well, arm thrown around Adrien’s shoulder. “Don’t you remember inviting us over?”

“_No_.”

“_Yes_,” Alya says. She pushes Marinette off her and back onto a couch cushion, continuing, “I texted them while you were playing. Tried to tell you, remember?”

“No, I _don’t_,” Marinette says. She looks over at Nino and Adrien, the latter smiling up with that grin that made her stomach turn like wild, and eyes that crinkled as he grinned. She _definitely_ would’ve remembered if Alya invited anyone over, and Adrien at that. He hardly left his house, much less was able to hang out with them. “I guess I was a little busy.”

“’Little busy’? Marinette, I swear you took out half of the players by yourself.”

“Sounds like something she’d do,” Nino says, watching as she grabbed her controller and headed to the lobby. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve played with Marinette and watched her literally go wild.”

“You want to go up for a round, Nino?” Marinette asks, cheeks cooling down and relaxing as she focused on loading up another match. “I have a spare controller, and Alya doesn’t like playing.”

“It’s not that I don’t like playing,” Alya says. “It’s more like I _can’t_. Last time I played, I set off a bomb on myself and got killed less than five minutes into the game. No thank you to that.”

Nino shakes his head, hands already raised in surrender. “I’d love to, but I think I’m traumatized after my last go with you, Mari. You screamed so much I thought my ears would pop.”

“You guys are no fun,” she mutters. “C’mon, one game with me can’t be _that_ bad.”

“It is,” Alya and Nino say in unison.

“I’ll play,” Adrien offers, hand coming to her shoulder. Marinette goes absolutely red, freezing up under his touch.

“R-Really?” she asks, trying badly to focus on the screen and not him. It doesn’t work.

“Yeah, why not? It’ll be fun, and my dad doesn’t let me play this game a lot.”

Alya and Nino exchange looks, wary. Adrien, unexperienced and all too cheery, willing to play a round with Marinette, who had plenty of victories down her belt and a tendency to curse at whatever – or whoever – got in her way while playing.

What could go wrong?

The answer is almost too easy, Alya bouncing off the couch and grabbing Nino’s hand. They give off some excuse of needing to grab snacks from the kitchen and leave the two alone, the only sound Marinette’s fumbling about as she searches for her second controller, relief when she comes across it.

She holds it out to him, hand way too straight to be normal and cheeks burning. “Here you go.”

He grabs it gently, grin on his face. “I can’t wait to play!”

Marinette manages to smile as well. “Yep. Hopefully nothing goes wrong.”

Alya and Nino think of it as the quietest Marinette’s ever been during a match, biting her lip every time Adrien messes up or needs to be revived. She’s holding herself back, trying to be as calm and collected while playing, so much so that she excuses herself four times to go to the bathroom.

Her screams were never more muffled than those moments.


	18. bartender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 18: bartender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bets on how long it takes for them to bone are open it starts at "immediately after her shift ends" and "five months later after long nights spent talking at the bar moving to little meetups they aren't ready to call dates and ending when they finally fall apart together"

Getting a job as a bartender paid off pretty well. Literally.

“I’m telling you; you get tipped _way_ too nicely by that one guy,” Alya says, handing her an iced coffee and making for the café table near the back.

“It’s not like I’m begging him for anything,” Marinette responds, fiddling with the straw as she spoke. “He just feels inclined to tip. How can I say no to that?”

“He gave you a _hundred euros_ last night. A hundred!” Plopping down across from her, Alya raises a brow. “What kinda guy has that kind of money laying around?”

“Am I supposed to trace down this mystery guy’s expenses? C’mon Al, I don’t even know his name. He doesn’t even order anything but water.”

Alya practically chokes on her drink, looking at Marinette. “_Water_?” she repeats.

“Mm-hm.”

“Pause.” Alya pushes up her glasses, listing off the details. “So, you’re telling me this guy goes to the biggest nightclub in the city, plops down at the bar, orders _water_, and then tips you good enough that we don’t have to worry about groceries for the next week?”

Marinette takes a sip from her coffee, leaving lipstick stains on the straw. “Yep.”

“How is it that you haven’t asked him for his number yet? Or his name? Because I swear, he has to have a crush on you or something.”

“Are you kidding? What’s to like?” Marinette asks, laughing. “I’m a college bartender who once spilled an entire bottle of beer on myself in front of him, and just last night nearly slipped on spilt alcohol. You’re telling me that’s what caught his eye?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s into clumsy girls.”

“As if,” Marinette says, brushing off Alya. Still, her heart sped up at the thought, thinking of him. He only showed up on certain nights of the month, always stayed for the same time, and never strayed from tipping generously. He had green eyes that almost glowed in the night, and a soft smile every time he sat down at the bar, even when she was too busy to get his order for a while.

Still, Marinette hadn’t mustered up the courage to talk to him, a serious of head nods all she worked with. She sighed, raising her drink up to her lips again.

“Next time he’s showing up, you need to let me come with,” Alya says.

“I don’t know…”

“This isn’t a question. I’m going, and I’m gonna make sure you’re looking hot, and I’m going to make sure by the end of the night we get his name. You know what?” Alya asks, answering herself in the next second, “No. Not just his name! We are getting his number.”

Which was why, two weeks later, Alya was dancing on the floor, enjoying herself while Marinette was at the bar. Serving drinks and keeping her eyes on a digital clock behind the bar, Marinette kept track of the time as the night went on, waiting for the right time to pop up.

Finally, just fifteen minutes before the DJ’s set started for the night, he came up to the bar, taking a seat and smiling. Marinette nodded her head his way, wishing Alya hadn’t drifted away before he showed up. Now, she was caught between two sides of her mind.

On one hand, she could continue as they always had. A nod, quick hand giving him his drink and letting him sit in silence the majority of the night, where at the end he’d lay down a nice tip and leave.

On the second, she could do something different. Something bold. And maybe, something that would pay off well.

In less than a second, she made her choice.

“Just water?” Marinette asks, surprising herself.

“Um, yeah,” he says. “Just water.”

Marinette nods, already used to the routine. Sliding him a glass, he took it with a smile, their fingers barely brushing as she did so.

“So, uh, what brings you here?” she asks, taking advantage of the moment while she could. The moment the question leaves her mouth however, Marinette immediately regrets it.

Stupid question. Dumb question. Probably the first question she had been trained never to ask, one that would open up either hostile answers or way too much information or-

“My friend’s the DJ,” he says, thumb pointed back towards the booth. “I head out every night he performs so I can see him.”

“Nino?” Marinette asks. Her eyes dart back, spotting Nino setting up for the night and talking to someone. With a jolt, Marinette realizes he’s talking to _Alya_, her best friend somehow getting past all the occupants on the floor and having what seemed like a lively conversation with Nino, leaning up on the wall and watching him set up.

“You’re friends with him?”

“I share some of my tips with him,” Marinette says. “It’s a part of the gig.”

“Huh. I wouldn’t have tipped so heavy if I knew he was getting some of it,” he says, causing Marinette to crack a smile. She vaguely feels her cheeks go warm, but knocks it up to the heat of the club.

“Why don’t I make you a drink?” Marinette asks him. “On the house.”

“I’m not really fond of alcohol. It’s a bit too strong, you know?”

“I’m sure I can work around that.”

He smiles. “If you can make me something I’ll enjoy, I’ll order it every time I come in. Promise.”

“You’re on.” Marinette reaches around, pouring certain liquids in. Looking at him for a second, she bites her lip and finds the courage to speak again. “I just need one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Your name.”

“It’s Adrien,” he tells her, over the sound of music. “And yours?”

She grabs a glass, pouring the drink out into it. Pushing it towards him, she answers.

“Marinette.”


	19. road trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 19: road trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i... i keep forgetting to post here when it posts on tumblr

Alya had been the one to suggest it. A road trip, away from the stress of the city and towards someplace they could actually relax at. A way to bond together, spend time away from the city and leave saving the day to the other superheroes for a change. Adrien had a vacation home five hours away and free to make good use of, and after they set aside time for a weekend to spend, they piled in Nino’s car, each brought a weekend’s worth of clothes, and set off.

The first hour had been the most exciting. Alya was in the passenger seat, and as such was in charge of directions and music. Nino tried to take over with a mix he had made of his own, but with hands on the wheel had little power over how much he could actually control. As such, Alya’s playlist was the supreme, volume up and songs blasting.

Adrien and Marinette were in the back, seated next to each other and unsure what to make of it. Feelings were there, feelings that they had never gotten through speaking out loud, feelings that had been ignored in the reveal but never forgotten.

Feelings that, in that first hour, seemed more present than ever.

The second hour was a mix of watching shows on her phone and texting Alya, Marinette making sure every message was sent away from Adrien’s line of sight (a hard thing to do seeing as he towered over her even when they sat down). Fingers taping wildly, she went through every worry in the book, from how to act towards Adrien at the house, if it was a good time to share her feelings for him, or if she should just keep it all hidden. And Alya, although she couldn’t outright just tell Marinette how Adrien felt, tried her best to be supportive, offering as much advice as she could even while she simply wanted to solve everything with a quick _he likes you too!!!_

Marinette’s so caught up in it, she doesn’t realize her phone screen reflects when aimed towards the window. Adrien decides its in everyone’s best interest if he doesn’t alert her of that.

The third and fourth hours, Marinette couldn’t remember. She had fallen asleep then, headphones playing mellow music in her ears and the air conditioning on blast in her face. When she had woken up, the seatbelt digging into her side, she was curled up onto Adrien, his arm wrapped around her and keeping her snug while she slept. She was flustered at first, on the verge of jumping, but caught his face. He was pressing his forehead against the window, his eyes shut and breathing low. So instead, Marinette shifted more into him, pulled out her phone, and silently scrolled as he slept, careful not to disturb him.

Alya took this chance to take pictures under the guise of selfies, zooming in on the two and collecting them to tease the two with later.

The fifth hour, Adrien had woken up. Arm still around her, he had yawned and stretched his neck, before looking down at Marinette, at his side and watching a baking video on her phone. He smiled down at her, watching the way her nose scrunched up during certain parts, or how she replayed certain motions as if taking notes. His hand gently moving up and down her arm, she looked up to catch Adrien watching her.

“Hey,” he says, voice hoarse from his nap.

“Hey,” Marinette responds, noticing how puffy his face got during his nap, and the way his eyes were still close together as if trying to catch a few more minutes of rest. So cute, even without trying.

They get interrupted by the GPS system saying they’ve arrived, a loud interruption that makes Alya curse and Nino clench tighter to the wheel. He drove up the path, leading the way to the vacation home and the start of their getaway.

Adrien finally pulls his arm away, taking the moment to stretch before they got out. As he moved his head one way to the other in an attempt to crack it, she notices he has a red mark on one side of his face from how he had been sleeping, making her giggle.

“Something funny?” he asks, smiling.

She lets a hand come up, finger poking at his cheek. “Yes. Very funny.”

Five hours, and they finally made it.


	20. boarding school

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 20: boarding school

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha i'm so sorry for everyone subbed to this fic who's gonna get a sudden burst of uploads this weekend hahahahah

Marinette came back in the third week of July. She came back with a new handbag on her shoulder, manicured nails, and her regular pigtails gone, a neat, way too stylish bob in its place.

Needless to say, she had an effect on everyone.

“Boarding school?” Chloé practically spits out, looking over at Marinette, watching how she walked into the café and made for their table. Each step was sure and without a falter, very different from the Marinette she knew. From the Marinette they _all_ knew, who a few months ago would’ve walked in with last season flats and would probably trip over her own feet before she even made it to the table.

This Marinette had on _Jimmy Choo’s_. 

“Yes, boarding school,” Alya says, pulling out the seat next to her out so Marinette could sit. “I’ve told you like a dozen times this summer. And so has Adrien. _And_ Nino.”

“I thought you all were joking!”

“Chlo, you were there when Marinette got the acceptance letter, and when we sent her off at the airport for New York. What else did you think she was up to all summer?”

“I don’t know! Maybe traveling with her family! She has that one uncle, and that weird grandma who always traveling around.”

“They have names, you know.”

“You act like I’ll say any of them even if I knew them,” she points out. “It’s been, like, three months since I even started using Marinette’s first name.”

“I’m surprised you kept up a good fight with the hyphenated last name.”

“It’s called tradition.” Chloé frowns as she sees Marinette near, continuing, “Getting my nails done every Tuesday. Buying new clothes only when it’s not rainy. Marinette not being… _like that_!”

“Thanks,” Marinette says, close enough now she heard the last end of the sentence. She set down her bag on the table and sat down, scooting in to Alya. “Glad you noticed the change.”

She gets an eye roll in response, which last year would’ve prompted a well-placed insult but instead gets a small smile in return, a long way from where they used to be. They had long since abandoned the rivalry after being forced into a room alone and confronted with the fact that _hey, maybe you aren’t so bad_. Now, they blended well together, the usual envy and spite coming out in curt comebacks and blunt honesty that no one else in their social circle would provide to either.

Which was why Marinette didn’t bat an eye at the next to leave Chloé’s mouth.

“Since when did you have money?” Chloé glared at her shoes, the same flats she had sitting in her walk-in closet and yet to be broken into, which would most definitely have to be returned now.

“She didn’t mean it like that,” Alya says, sending a look her way.

“She didn’t?” Marinette asks, looking over at Alya and arching a brow. A perfectly plucked brow at that, with a nice enough arch Chloé had to bite her lip and make a mental note to get hers redone.

“Yes, I did,” she says, ignoring Alya. “Marinette, where did you suddenly come in contact with six hundred euros? Because I know very well those Jimmy Choo’s didn’t just magically appear on your feet.”

Marinette merely blinks, cool and collected while she lifts one foot up and moves her head to gaze down at them. “Oh these?” she asks. “They were a gift.”

“A _gift_?”

Marinette smiles, and it’s the same kind of grin that leaves Chloé wondering if she’s challenging her or simply looking nice. “At the school, we won prizes if we ranked top in our weekly projects. Drawn up designs, or quickly sewn up outfits were the usual project.”

“How many did you win, girl?” Alya asks, eyes widening.

“How long was I gone for?”

“Two months and a half,” Chloé answers, a bit too fast for her liking.

Marinette counts the weeks down on her fingers, knocking down all but four. “Then six projects,” she says, looking up at them.

“I am _so_ digging through your closet on our next sleepover.” Alya leans back in her chair, arms crossed. “Also, care to clue me in on why you suddenly got a haircut, Mari? I knew it was short but didn’t think it’d be _that_ short. C’mon girl, give me the details.”

“The school promoted changing our looks to show how cutting edge and innovative we could get about ourselves. I guess I took it to the next level.”

_This is ridiculous_, Chloé thinks._ Utterly ridiculous. Where did she go, America’s Next Top Model?_

“Anyways,” Marinette pushes her hair back and smiles at the two when her fingers meet the end, “it’s cute, right?”

“It’s alright,” Chloé says, cutting in before Alya can agree. “I mean, it frames your face well, if that’s what you wanted to hear.”

Marinette blinks. “Oh. I guess that’s a good thing, right?”

“Duh. Don’t tell me the American water did something to your brain. You need every braincell you have.”

In a typical setting, something like that would’ve prompted a good comeback, one that sent Chloé reeling and working her brain around for something snarky to say back. In a typical setting, she would’ve found herself caught with either a glare or eyes narrowed, staring her down while Alya sought to diffuse the situation.

Instead, she gets a laugh out of Marinette, eyes crinkling and the laugh lines showing. It’s a laugh Chloé hadn’t realized she missed, one that reminds her of the plenty of good times they had just started to share.

“So I guess I was missed, huh?” she asks, an elbow coming up to lay on the table and her chin coming forward to sit on her open palm.

Chloé sputters, caught off guard. “As if,” she responds, cheeks going red. “Come on, you aren’t that important.”

She’s lying, of course. Not that she’ll ever give Marinette the satisfaction of finding that out.


	21. airport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 21: airport

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they luv each other... cute. 
> 
> (fun fact: i've never been on a plane)

Airports never made for fun goodbyes.

“Do you really have to go?” Marinette asks, arms still wrapped around Adrien’s neck. She’s on her tiptoes, the top of her head just barely making it to his chin but standing studier than ever, like she could stay there forever. And maybe she would, if only it meant Adrien could stay by her side longer.

He leans his head down, presses a kiss on the top of her head. “Have to. I can’t miss my shoot, you know that.”

Adrien’s right, of course. Marinette knew he had this shoot planned for weeks, the tight grip his father had on his career as a teen not loosening even while he became an adult. She didn’t mind him going off and making a bigger name for himself, but it hurt to know she’d be stuck in Paris without his touch for a week. That she wouldn’t have him by her side, an ocean away from her.

That she’d have to get through this goodbye before the next hello.

“Will you call when you land?” Marinette asks, trying to keep him there as long as she could, even if she asked questions she already knew the answer to.

“Of course.”

She thinks, trying to find something else to ask. Looking up, she gazes at him, glasses perched on the tip of his nose and green eyes gazing so softly at her. “Will you text me when you’re about to sleep?”

“And when I wake up,” he responds, beating Marinette to the chase before she goes in with her next question. Bending down, Adrien kisses her softly.

“Will you miss me?” she asks once they part, watching the way a smile grows on his face.

“I already do.”


	22. business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 22: business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> she's the boss at work... and in the sheets haha

“Did you hear?” Nino says, hand gripping onto the doorframe as he peeks his head in. He looks worried, headphones resting around his neck and brows furrowed together. “Dupain-Cheng is coming to the office in five minutes.”

Adrien nearly chokes on his coffee, sitting back up in his seat so fast he almost spills his cup all over his pants. Straightening the files on his desk, he feels his nerves spike up.

Dupain-Cheng. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Editor-in-chief for _La Petite Robe_, Paris’ current top fashion magazine, and the one person whose name would bring chills down anyone’s spine. Adrien had been working for less than a month here, and this would be his first run-in with her, one that needed to go well if he were to continue having a role here.

A role that wasn’t gotten with his dad’s name, but earned through his own hard work and effort.

Still, Adrien almost wished he had that big name to use with the way his legs felt like jelly as he got up and made his way to the hallway, praying it’ll be over quickly.

Nino motioned for him to take his place in the empty space next to him. “Bro,” he starts, “just stand next to me and act natural. She’ll do a quick walk by and then head into her office if everything goes well.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Adrien asks, watching his fellow coworkers line up and stare nervously at the entrance.

Nino grimaces. “You know how to pray, don’t you?”

The sound of the door opening draws their attention, heads snapping in unison and watching the person enter, heels clicking as she made her way towards them. Behind her, Alya Césaire walks, glancing at each person from the top of her glasses and staring them down. Executive editor, she was Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s right hand, and the person with whom visited the floors more often.

All the more nerve-wracking to Adrien when he recalled how last week, she threw out three articles from the upcoming April edition without a moment’s hesitation after seeing the color schemes. Alya was a pro in the fashion business, and it left Adrien to wonder just how intense Marinette could be as well.

He felt his breathing pick up as they started down, looking at everyone with every strong and slow step. Adrien feels the urge to run his hand through his hair but stops himself, hoping not to draw attention to himself.

It doesn’t work.

“Wait,” comes out from Marinette’s mouth, a word spoken so strong Adrien wouldn’t be surprised if the office froze in response. She pauses in front of him, a good five centimeters shorter yet somehow towering over him with the intense look she throws him. Adrien wonders what he could have done to get called out, looking down at her and trying to connect the dots. Was his tie done wrong? Did he actually end up getting coffee on his outfit? Was he wearing last season’s colors?

“You look familiar,” she simply says.

“Oh, well, my father- “

“Your father,” she repeats, cutting him off. “He’s a fashion designer, correct?”

Yes,” Adrien lets out slowly. “My father; he’s Gabriel- “

“Agreste,” she finishes. Holding up a hand, Adrien notices she’s wearing a bright red lip, one that stands out and keeps his gaze on her lips while she speaks. “Yes, just as I thought. You’re Adrien, correct? His son?”

“Yes. His only.”

“So,” she raises a brow, “you also modeled for him, right?”

Adrien swallows, feeling the gaze of his coworkers dig into him. “Yes, Miss Dupain-”

“Call me Marinette,” she interrupts.

“Marinette?”

“Yes.” Her eyes moving up to look at his directly, Marinette maintains eye contact as she speaks. “I expect great things from the son of a fashion designer, and a retired model at that. As such, I suppose someone of your background and stature should address me as you would anyone else in the industry.”

“Thank you,” he replies, hoping he can keep his cool. Marinette narrows her eyes with the next sentence, winged eyeliner showing off the bright blue as she continues.

“However, I’ll decide if you get to keep that right.”

“Of course.”

Marinette steps back, a hand coming up to tuck back one of the rebellious strands that escaped the place behind her ear. Keeping steady contact, Adrien’s sure there’s a glint in her eyes, something that almost challenges him.

“Don’t disappoint me.”

Turning her body, she continues on, Alya following behind in silence. Adrien feels sweat building on his forehead, too on edge to react while the two continue their walk down the hallway.

“I can’t believe she actually talked to you,” Nino whispers once they’ve gotten far enough away. “This is huge. Big. Kinda scary. How do you feel?”

Adrien keeps his eyes trained on the back of Marinette’s head, watching how much further she became as she observed all the other employees.

“You didn’t tell me she was so pretty,” he whispers back, and maybe it’s a bit too loud because Adrien swears he sees Marinette stiffen at his words but he can’t seem to care enough about it.

No, he really can’t seem to care much at all.


	23. imprinting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 23: imprinting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're... cute.

Marinette swears the kitten thinks they’re their parents. And Adrien can’t argue, not when they look up at him with those big eyes and meow so softly his heart just about bursts. He feels already so attached he wants to buy all the latest in cat equipment, his debit card no where near ready for his shopping spree later.

Finding him had been a rarity, almost as miraculous as their powers. They had been taking a short walk around Marinette’s neighborhood, talking aimlessly about the latest akumas and whether it was getting cold enough that winter accessories should be added to their suits when they had spotted the little guy, placed in a small box and near the brink of who knows what. Marinette had scooped him up before Adrien could protest (although really, would he?) and together they smuggled him up to her room, unsure whether it was a good move to not inform her parents.

Although, they reasoned, it wouldn’t be the first thing they hid from them.

“We need to figure out what to do with him,” Marinette says, hugging him close to her chest. “We can’t hide him forever.”

Adrien sighs, not sure if it’s from being awestruck at Marinette or frustration at their situation. He settles for a mix of both, watching the way the unnamed kitten rested on top of her, cute enough for the two to be in a pet’s magazine spread. Although, the real winner here was Marinette, laying down on the chaise and practically cooing at the kitten, only seconds away from baby talk at this point.

Snapping himself out of his thoughts, Adrien focused on what was important here (not that Marinette wasn’t usually the most important object in his thoughts). “We could always do an ad,” he suggests, watching the way she shifted her head to look at him.

“An _ad_?” she repeats.

“Yeah. We could post a picture of him online, and see who contacts or what’s to take him off our hands.”

She bites her lip. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I mean, what other choice do we have? There’s no way Nathalie or my father would let me keep him, and who knows what your parents would say.”

“Mama and Papa will be fine with it.” Marinette pauses, looking at the kitten. “I think.”

“Maybe someone in our class could take him in.”

The kitten meows, keeping Marinette’s attention as she speaks. “Maybe. But…”

“But?” Adrien asks, wondering what she’ll offer as defense.

“But…” Marinette sighs, admiring the whiskers on the kitten. “I’m in love with him.”

“Marinette, we’ve only had him for like a half hour.”

“And? That’s plenty of time to fall in love with someone,” she says, looking back to how long it took for her to fall in love with Adrien. Five minutes, and she had been stuck on him ever since. She was sure the same logic applied to pets, including adorable ones with big green eyes like ones she saw nearly everyday.

“It’s a cat, Marinette.”

“You’re a cat, Adrien.”

“I’m Chat Noir.”

“Close enough.”

Smiling, Adrien knows he won’t win this argument. She’s practically attached herself to the kitten, everything but sign the adoption papers at this point. Shaking his head, he watches how she carefully pets his head.

“You know, we’re gonna need a name for him.”

“We’re?” Marinette asks, turning her head to look at him. “So you’re in?”

“Of course I am,” Adrien says. “Partners, remember? Now come on, let’s run through some names.”


	24. dystopian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 24: dystopian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imagine goin to war on the rebellion's side to fight against ur dad... yeah that's peak teen rebellion right there

“How did you know you’d find me here?” Adrien asks, his legs swinging off the edge of the rooftop. Marinette sat down next to him, crossing her legs underneath her and leaning on one arm.

“Are you kidding? Of course, I’d be able to find you. We’re two halves of the same coin.”

Adrien frowns, looking at her. “You know, you shouldn’t repeat everything Master Fu says.”

Marinette leans her body close to his, nudging him softly. “And you shouldn’t ignore everything he says.”

“Fair point,” he says, legs swinging slower now. He didn’t need to entertain himself with trivial things anymore. Marinette was here, and that was more than enough. Looking closer, Adrien noticed she had her hair down for a change. A nice one, so subtle he didn’t know if he should say anything about it.

“I didn’t just come here to show off our bond,” Marinette starts. “I came to tell you the news.”

“What news?”

“We head out tomorrow. Crack of dawn. We’ll head down to the city, make a few stops to gather supplies, then from there head on out to the warzones. Should be a week’s long journey.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Marinette repeats, raising her brow. “Adrien, this is our first time out there, fighting against the Papillion forces and actually showing what the Miraculous Resistance can do, and “oh” is all you can manage?”

He’s silent. Marinette touches his shoulder with her free hand, letting it sit there for a moment.

“I know it’s gonna be tough,” she adds, keeping steady eye contact. “It’s gonna be your first time fighting against them all, and…”

She stops herself, too hesitant.

“And my dad,” Adrien finishes, leaning more into her touch. “No one said it would be easy.”

“I guess no one did.” Hand still on his shoulder, she rubs it gently. “You’re stronger than he’ll ever be, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you mean more to all of us, way more than it had been over on the other side,” Marinette says, voice going low. “You know that, right?”

He nods now, feeling his nerves spike up with the sudden realization of her hand on his body and the sudden moment of peace between the two. It’s familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, and leaves Adrien wondering what step to take going forward.

“You mean a lot to me too,” he finally says in response. Marinette’s cheeks turn pink, a rare sight on someone who usually never let her emotions get in the way of the task at hand, at ending Hawkmoth’s reign once and for all.

“I do?”

“Yeah.” With a jolt, Adrien realized they were a lot closer than they had been before. Centimeters away from each other’s faces. Her hand had fallen down from his shoulder to rest on one of his hands. “You do.”

When she leans in next, he follows, two halves of the same coin working together.


	25. mythology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 25: mythology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohHHh yes we love

The Fates had prophesized about a love between a demigod and a mortal. A cruel love, one by which would have tragic results. It had been foreseen the next child born from a god and mortal would be stuck with the prophecy, and it would be as useless as stringing Apollo away from the sun as to try and avoid it.

There had been fear towards it at first. Caution amongst the gods, by which several vowed to not have a child born by their name for the time being. Warnings amongst each other, in the hopes they could avoid it as long as possible.

Aphrodite did no such thing.

No one could control love, and so if no one would make the move, she would need to take matters into her own hands and push forward the prophecy, cast it out into the world and down to the earth.

So, she found a person to bestow the child upon.

She found a man by which all accounts seemed cold as heartbreak. He showed no mercy, caused pain without remorse, and took pleasure in the resulting chaos by which he could cause. Still, he was talented, and it was not his personality but talents that which drew her in and kept her mind entertained, and by which she felt confident enough to gift him with a child. She had left as soon as she had given him a child, blessing the baby only by name before departing up to the heavens.

_Adrien_, she had whispered into the air. Adrien, by who she hoped would have a life as beautiful as his mother, before the prophecy reared its head and took his heart away.

But oh, how she failed to realize that the talent someone beheld did little when it came to the nurture and care a child needed, to help protect his heart.

When Adrien did fall in love, he was sixteen. He fell in love quickly, without a second thought to all around him as if he had been struck by an arrow by Cupid himself. She was beautiful, and kind, and should he ever be so lucky he would love to rise every morning and witness her chest rising with the sun. Her name had been Marinette, and it had been less than a week before he decided she would be the person he wanted to be next to for the rest of her life, a wish that had been equally wanted by her as well.

From then on, their love was passionate, and a wonder to behold for any bystander to witness.

They would walk to the marketplace together, mindful of the distance needed to be given yet never straying far from one another. Adrien romanced her with poems, and Marinette gifted him with handmade gifts, from freshly baked bread to handsewn pieces of clothing, clothing that which he wore every moment he had. Adrien picked flowers for her, each one wishing a blessing from his mother herself, and visiting Marinette straightaway to deliver them, promising her a future by which they could be married, happy and together. And she had agreed, encouraged by her family to take an offer on love.

He hadn’t been told of the prophecy, not yet. His father found no need to do so, and the gods around them found it best to stay away, unwilling to see the end.

All but one.

It had been a day before the wedding when Aphrodite arrived, a message to share. She finally shared the prophecy to him in its entirety, which spoke of a love that would never live to see it’s peak. And he had wept, horrified by the path he had no choice in getting. Adrien cried, and clung to his mother, unwilling to believe it.

Overcome with guilt, Aphrodite offered him a blessing that she hardly gifted to those. A wish, one that if he used right could keep his heart mostly intact.

When the wedding had finally arrived, Adrien wept. He cried at the sight of his bride, knowing he was fated to be parted from her forever before the end of the day. Pulling her close, Adrien took the time he had to admire her, committing every inch to memory. He didn’t attempt to waste his wish on more time, or as a way to break the prophecy.

Adrien was no fool. He knew if it was said, it must be done.

Marinette slept as the moon rose into the sky, illuminating their bedroom. Adrien didn’t, watching as she fell asleep and never awoke, the Fates having severed her lifeline. He watched her, at the way her chest stilled and body turned cold, and with his wish he cast her memory out into the sky, where her features became the stars and her smile shone as bright as the moon. He sent a prayer out to his mother in thanks, and stood by the window, looking up at his love.

He looked up, and accepted his fate to be alone, cruel love having played its hand.


	26. social media

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 26: social media

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all those tweets paid off omg

Ladybug watched him with narrowed eyes and arms crossed as he landed on a rooftop overlooking the nearby park. She looked absolutely pissed, and Adrien would be lying to himself if he said it didn’t turn him on just a little bit.

Okay, he was lying. It was more than a little bit.

“You’re telling me a shrimp fried this rice?” is the first time to come out from her mouth. Already a weird statement, but coming from her mouth seemed even more confusing, had Adrien not remembered where it came from.

Or, remembered the tweet he had sent last night on Chat Noir’s personal Twitter, the tweet that had blown up way too fast for him to control and had already made its way onto various sites, making commentary on the superhero’s very random post.

“It was funny,” he offers.

“Funny?”

He grins, hands held out in surrender. “Okay, a little more than funny.”

Ladybug huffs, arms still crossed, and her nose scrunched up in that adorable way it always did when she was thinking of what to say. Stepping closer, Adrien couldn’t help the way his mind went a little fuzzy as she spoke.

“Chat, these are our professional accounts,” she starts, voice just so _strong_ and _assertive_, “We can’t just goof off on them. The people look to us for information, not the latest joke to come out of your mouth.”

“Actually, it’s not from my mouth. I typed it with my fingers.”

“Chat…” she warns.

“Okay, okay,” he says, hands coming up. “I get it. We shouldn’t tweet whatever whenever. But you’re just as much to blame.”

Ladybug blinks, stepping back. “Excuse me?”

“Remember that tweet you liked a week ago?” Adrien did. He put it on repeat in his brain over and over, his own method of counting sheep at night and passing time in class.

She had liked a tweet from his most recent photoshoot. _Adrien Agreste’s most recent photoshoot_.

Going red, she frowned, before opening her mouth in the hopes of finding something to say in response. “Well,” she says after a moment, “that doesn’t really count. It was an accident.”

“Was it now?”

“My hand slipped and I accidentally liked a tweet from someone I follow!” she exclaims, defending herself.

Adrien’s grin was huge, leaning in and being dangerously close to her face. “You only follow me, wonderbug.”

Ladybug’s hand comes out, pushing him back before their noses touched. Turning her head, she glared out into the street.

“Well,” she mutters, “can you blame me? It was a good photoshoot, Chat.”

The grin on his face is enough to make Ladybug ask if he’s alright, to which he responds with a tight-lipped nod before leaping (and almost falling in the process) over to the next rooftop.


	27. detective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 28: detective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe it's a pt 2 to day 9

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Marinette mutters, eyes scanning paper after paper. “This makes literally no sense at all.”

“What doesn’t?”

“This! All of this!” Holding out papers, she waves them around, the paper crinkling under her grip. Marinette sighs, then throws them onto the coffee table, sending them to fly about.

“You’re gonna have to clean that up, you know,” Alya says, watching how papers dived underneath her coffee table. “I didn’t invite you to my house so you could throw stuff.”

“Yeah. You invited me to help look for any loose ends.” Marinette sank back into the couch, a hand coming up to rub at her temple. “And we’ve gotten nowhere so far.”

“Well, last week we got a fresh lead. Gorilla, remember?” Alya brings up, recalling back to the dinner they had at _L’Agreste_, where they had recognized the ex-drug dealer.

“That’s all we got to figure out,” Marinette reminds her. “We were on a high one moment then realized they had bugged the plants next to us and were listening in. We’re lucky we made it out in one piece.”

“We’re lucky we made it out without paying out of our own dime. Seriously who thought up charging so much for drinks?”

“The rich,” Marinette mumbles. “How else do you think they get to stay so rich?”

Alya leans down to grab at a paper. Taped on it was the message Marinette had received from the mysterious _A.A._, initials that she hadn’t bothered to figure out yet despite Alya’s pushing. It was already enough to simply get down to one part of the puzzle, and she had refused to head down another path.

Still, it wasn’t like Alya didn’t like to push her, if only a little.

“Why do you think he helped us out?” Alya asks. “I mean, he had to have been pretty high up to know we were bugged. Maybe he was even listening in.”

Marinette doesn’t answer, knowing what direction she was headed.

“Who knows… maybe he saw something he liked.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe,” Alya starts, already enjoying where this led, “he saw _you_.”

Marinette groans, throwing her head back. “Please Alya, don’t fill my head with goo. The last thing I need is to go gaga over a guy I barely saw. He bought us drinks. That’s all.”

“But there’s gotta be something more to him if he went through all the trouble of writing you something.”

“Maybe he’s a bit smarter than the average customer?”

“Or maybe he knows stuff we want to learn,” Alya challenges.

“What do you expect me to do about it?”

“You know what you’re gonna have to do.” Smiling, Alya grabs a decorative pillow next to her, throwing it over at Marinette. “You gotta _go to him_.”

Marinette grabs the pillow and hugs it to her chest, frowning. “I don’t even know his name.”

The grin on Alya’s face is downright mischievous, leaving Marinette to wonder whether she’s doing this for the case or for Marinette’s next date. “But you know where he’ll be at.”

Sighing, she sank into the couch. Marinette did know that, after all, and it was maybe the one piece of information she had learned during the case.

“Let’s hope I get lucky.”

A week later, wearing a tight little black number, Marinette’s glad whatever wish she made out into the world worked. She’s back at _L’Agreste_, and with no one stopping her gets to the bar without any complications. He’s there, just like she expected, back turned her way and downing another glass. Silent, she tries to figure out what’s a good thing to say to this _A.A._, the person who’s note she has tucked into a purse pocket.

He beats her to the chase, speaking before she’s even got her introduction figured out. “I knew you’d come back.”

“I… How did you-?”

“If you want to find out, take a seat. If you don’t want my help, I suggest you leave, before they turn the bugs on you again.”

Marinette hesitates for a moment, and against her better judgement places her purse down on the bar, lifting herself up onto the chair closest to him. She waits, wondering what he’ll say.

He’s handsome, she notes. Blond hair, green eyes, a nice jaw. All the traits of someone blessed with fair features, and all the traits of every douchebag she dated during her academy days. Training her eye on the drink in his hand, Marinette notices a silver ring on his ring finger, shining in the light as he moves.

The same silver ring she knew had gone missing months ago, after a jewelry store owner owed bad money to a couple of dope dealers and wound up with half of his store robbed.

“Who are you, exactly?” she asks, wanting to rush at him first before he offered her any explanation.

For a moment, she watches him still. Stop himself before answering, like an unneeded intake of air that perhaps was a bit too guarded. And then, he responds.

“Adrien Agreste.”

Marinette almost has to stop her mouth from opening. _Adrien…. Agreste_. As in the Adrien Agreste, son of Gabriel. Agreste, the family they had been trying to investigate for so long without anything coming up.

Agreste. The very name that had been at the end of her chase for months.

“Why do you want to help me?” she asks, watching him. He smiles, raising his glass for the bartender to fill him up.

Voice low as he raises the glass to his lips, ready for another sip, he simply tells her, “I want to see Gabriel Agreste go down.”


	28. time travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 30: time travel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> n we are done! i skipped the last few days to save my brain but yeah! au august 2019 is finally finished!! :) hope you enjoyed!

“So, how does a time traveler like you wind up in a place like this?”

“I’m not a time traveler,” Adrien shuts down, smiling even as he says it. He’s knocking back a glass at probably the dingiest bar in the city, and knows better than anyone else who’s talking to him. He watches out the corner of his eye as Chloé climbs up on the seat next to him, finger raised to motion the bartender to come over for her order.

“Yeah, you are,” she responds. “I know the term you use is probably fancier- “

“Reality shifter,” Adrien provides.

“Yep. Just as I thought, it’s total bullshit too. Anyways, fact of the matter is, you hop back in time, do some things, and come back to the present to collect your prize.”

“And?”

“_And_,” Chloé continues, “I was just wondering if you were up for a little job.”

Adrien shifts in his seat, looking at Chloé. “A job?”

“Yes, a job. Why else would I have tracked you down to this dirty bar, got up on a barstool that’s _definitely_ seen better days, and talked to you while you’re deep in your wallows?”

“Maybe because you’re my friend, Chloé?”

Chloé smiles, putting a hand on his arm. “Adrikins, I’m a lot of things, but I can assure you even as your _friend_ I wouldn't do this unless I was desperate. And I am,” she says, looking like she swallowed something bitter as she admitted the last thing.

Adrien’s brow goes up, surprised. “You’re desperate?”

“Yes, I _am_,” she practically hisses out. “You are maybe the only person I can fathom pulling off something like this, and you’re also the only person who possesses even the ability to go back and do your thing. The agency doesn’t even come close to that thing, and it’s no use trying to convince the heads to try and make one.”

“My thing?”

“Your time travel thing.”

“Reality shift,” Adrien corrects.

“Whatever.” Chloé waves her hand, brushing off his words. “It doesn’t matter what you call it, but we just need to get this done quick and fast. You in?”

“Fine,” Adrien says after a moment. “I’ll bite. What’s the job?”

She smiles, sliding her bag off of her shoulder and digging through for a file. Chloé slides it to him as she speaks, letting him open and read through.

“Two weeks ago, an up and coming fashion designer, Marinette, flat-out disappeared from her apartment complex. No cameras showed what happened, no clues went off about where she went, and no one alerted on her end that something was up. _Nada_. It was like she vanished from thin air.”

“So missing person’s case?” he asks, reading over the file.

“I’d chalk it up to that too, and almost did. But, three days ago, we recently found out she might’ve been kidnapped by another up and coming fashion designer, Lila something. For a newbie, she’s got lots of influence, reportedly was feeling threatened by her, and wanted to put an end to her before she got to the top.”

“Reportedly?”

“I dug around, found some old gossip and rumors,” Chloé says, leaning her elbow on the bar and perching her head as she spoke. “Apparently, this girl didn’t like that other one at all. She lied and spread a few things, tried ruining her reputation. Nothing worked. So, something makes me think she’s apart of what happened to this girl. And on top of that, we found out something else about her, something you might find interesting.”

Adrien waits, ready for what else Chloé has to say.

“We think,” she continues, “that this Lila chick had something to do with three other missing person’s cases, all revolving around girls who were doing really well, made her get threatened, and just had to go.”

“So you’re telling me, that potentially, we’re dealing with a serial killer?” Adrien asks, shutting the file. “And not just that, but potentially a powerful one at that?”

Chloé shrugs, smirk on her face. “I knew you’d be up for this job. It’s just too good to turn down, right?”

Adrien sighs, already knowing his choice on this. He grabs his glass, taking one last swig from it and downing the rest down his throat. Slapping it back down on the bar, he shakes his head.

“What do I have to do exactly?”

“I need you to go back to the day before it happens. Convince that Marinette girl to go with you, tell the damn truth if you have to. Bring her back here, where you can keep close watch on her while we draw Lila out and get proof connecting her to these other missing cases.”

“You want me to keep watch over that girl?” Adrien asks.

“Of course,” Chloé says, snorting. “I’m certainly not going to do it, and I doubt she would even listen to me if I was stuck with her. With you, pretty boy, I’ll bet she won’t mind being by your side.”

“You’re incredible,” Adrien mutters, cheeks growing warm.

“And you aren’t saying no,” she says, leaning in closer. “So, are you in?”

“I’m in. Let’s save this girl.”

**Author's Note:**

> mari-cheres on tumblr, inuyashas_ on twitter


End file.
